


hope

by GBTiger



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Reverse Falls, Child Abuse, F/M, Incest, M/M, Master/Slave, Multi, Reverse Pines, Sadism, Sexual Assault, Sexual Content, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 95,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9799676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GBTiger/pseuds/GBTiger
Summary: Will Cipher is a servant of Mabel and Mason Gleeful, who torture and punish him relentlessly. One day, he comes across the parallel dimension where his friend Bill Cipher resides, and discovers two twins who look exactly like his masters, but who are kind to him. Suddenly, things aren't as hopeless for him as they once seemed.





	1. Introductions

Will felt as though he might actually die this time – at least, he would pass out from either blood loss or pain. But this wasn’t a new feeling for him. Almost daily, he received some form of punishment for a misdeed, which could have been anything from trying to run away or simply making eye contact with one of his masters. This particular punishment, delivered by Madam, was for failing to clean her room properly by leaving part of her dresser slightly dusty.

She laughed maniacally as she drove a dagger again and again into his abdomen, a wicked gleam in her sapphire blue eyes. Laying on the floor, his hands bound above his head, Will could do nothing but cry out in agony, begging her to stop and apologizing through his tears. Did he mean the apologies? Of course not. He wasn’t sorry in the least for leaving a speck of dust on that fucking selfish, cruel girl’s furniture, but he despised these punishments: anyone, in fact, would dislike having a knife repeatedly plunged into their stomach. Madam had, unfortunately, always been sadistic and horribly mean to her servant, and often times, the only thing that stopped her from beating the life out of Will was her brother walking in and reminding her that he needed to be alive in order to cook dinner. And that was exactly what saved Will this time, too. He entered the room, calmly informing his sister that Will was dying of blood loss.

Master could only be described as horrifyingly beautiful. Brown hair was styled neatly so that the birthmark on his forehead that glowed eerily blue while he used his telekinetic powers. The mark had earned him a childhood nickname, Will had learned, of “Dipper,” for it was shaped exactly like the Big Dipper constellation, but now, he resented the name, and any mention of it made the boy bristle. Beneath the birthmark, he had bushy brown eyebrows to match his hair, and his eyes… They were a piercing arctic blue behind long lashes, and they captivated Will.  
Madam, being his twin, was just as lovely, if not more so. Though they had the same facial features and hair color, her hair went down to her waist and her eyebrows were shaped into elegant arches, perfectly framing her face. Daily, she wore a good amount of makeup: winged eyeliner, mascara, foundation, blush, lip gloss… It made her look like a terrifying porcelain doll. And, now that she was older, her body had developed to have womanly features that Will would occasionally find himself ogling. She’d started wearing high heels when she passed the age of fifteen too, which made her legs even more stunning. They also made her the same height as her brother, who had grown taller than her a few years ago.

Although Will had known the Gleeful twins since they were twelve, he hadn’t noticed much of a change in their dispositions. Master was always quiet, calm, and composed unless enraged, and Madam was cheery but sadistic and had an awful temper – she would explode at the drop of a hat. They were also consistent in the way that they handled their demonic servant: Madam saw Will as merely a toy and a thing to vent her frustrations upon, whereas Master punished him less frequently but calculated punishments carefully, fitting them to the wrongdoing so that Will learned his lesson. Though sometimes, much to Will’s dismay, he didn’t stop Madam’s unnecessary and violent outbursts against the demon; rather, he would lean against the wall and watch with those stoic, apathetic eyes as Will begged for mercy and forgiveness.

At the present moment in time, this was not the case. Master approached Madam and said softly, “That’s enough. Look at him, he’s bleeding all over the floor. Let him heal himself.”

Reluctantly, the girl lifted her knife, letting thick blood ooze like syrup from the tip of the blade onto Will’s cheek. “Killjoy,” she huffed, but set the knife down on a table and cast a glare at Will. “What are you waiting for, you piece of shit? Heal yourself and clean up this mess!” As Will blinked slowly up at her, his vision black around the edges, she spat on him. “You’re so useless! Don’t die this time, okay? If you do, I’ll punish you again!” Will nodded weakly in response, waiting for the twins to leave the room before his body began to emit a soft white glow that slowly closed his horrific wounds. The process would take no more than a few hours, but after that, he would still be weak and dizzy from blood loss. 

So, hours later when his wounds were scabbing, he stood, watching his footing so he wouldn’t slip and fall in the puddles of his own blood. Gods, he hated this job- could he even call it a job? Was it a real job when he was forced to be a slave to a sadistic family who paid him nothing?

“Nothing” wasn't the right word, although certainly, Will sometimes felt as though it was nothing, despite the long-term rewards he would obtain for this. He hadn’t truly been forced into this work, either. Seven years ago, he was summoned in the forest by the two preteens. It seemed innocent enough. Two kids had somehow found his summoning spell and brought him back to the town of Gravity Falls, and Will assumed that they had just been messing around with the occult, as some kids tend to do. They asked him to help take down their rival, Gideon Pines, and Will agreed to be put under their control. After all, he wondered, what harm could come from belonging to a couple of children, living in their mansion and caring for them? But the little ones had nothing to offer in exchange for Will’s service. Slyly, Will suggested that they offer their souls.

How clever Will thought he was. Human souls were one of the most valuable possessions across the galaxy, so valuable that their worth couldn’t be measured in human terms, and obtaining them was no easy matter. If the human didn’t freely offer their soul, it couldn’t be obtained – it would go on to the afterlife. And stupidly, the two children eagerly agreed, both pledging their souls to the demon. Once they died of old age, and Will had served them for their entire lives, he would obtain their souls, devour them, and become one of the most powerful demons in existence! But he was so naïve, unaware of the abuse that he would suffer as a servant of Mabel and Mason Gleeful, abuse so horrible that he would question every day if it was even worth it. However, even if he got on his knees and begged to break the deal, to be free and lose possession of the twin’s souls, he was denied (and often punished). “You’re our servant until we die, remember?” they spat. “Stop whining! You get our souls, isn’t that enough!” and they called him a variety of insults: stupid, worthless, useless, filth… And every night, once his chores were done, he crawled into bed and curled up on his hard, thin mattress, wondering if he really was as useless as they said he was.

When he had a moment, Will would sneak off and find peaceful, empty dimensions where he could take refuge from the Gleeful family and get out of his dark, unfurnished, uncomfortable bedroom. Sometimes, he would find his counterpart, Bill, and sit down and complain about his day. Bill was too annoying to be much comfort, but it helped to just talk about his grievances with someone.

Bill and Will had known each other for millennia. They could be considered brothers, cousins, or more accurately, the same entity but from parallel dimensions. Their human forms were alike, save for their hair and eye color. Will’s hair was a lovey cyan, and Bill’s was bright yellow, and they each had eyes to match. Their personalities were far different. Will had always been very mild-mannered and spoke quietly. He was altruistic, as well. Bill tended to be obnoxious and crude and loved tormenting people for the hell of it. He was the only one who could make Will _truly_ upset and annoyed. Bill was the type to go into the forest and kick small animals and laugh, while Will would follow behind, heal the animals, and present them with small flower crowns, then pet them and kiss them before releasing them back into the wild. 

The two didn’t care for each other, but they tolerated each other, at least. While Will complained about being tortured, Bill lounged around and interrupted him with silly things like, “Why don’t you just kill them?” or “You should let me kill them for you,” but Will politely declined and continued his ramblings. After an hour or so, he had to return home, opening a portal to his bedroom and laying down so he could at least get a couple hours of sleep before he had to wake up in the early morning and cook breakfast for the family. If breakfast was late, he’d be punished. He got into bed and wrapped his thin bloodstained blanket around himself and squeezed his eyes shut, praying to – he didn’t even know who – that something would change soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story's based off of a roleplay between myself and my friend Jamie ( check them out at the-crow-caller.tumblr.com ). The next chapter's going to be less explanations and more dialogue, and will hopefully be a bit longer. Thank you for reading! Comments are appreciated!


	2. Bill

Dipper Pines, too, had to tolerate the irritating presence of Bill Cipher. Since he had come back to Gravity Falls to be Ford’s apprentice, he discovered that Bill hadn’t died during Weirdmaggedon. After he recovered from being _nearly_ killed in Stan’s mind, he created a human form for himself, seemingly for no other reason than to annoy everyone around him. He had a tendency to hang out in Stan and Ford’s living room, or show up uninvited at dinner and take some food. He irritated the two older men, but they let him do what he wanted, as long as he wasn’t hurting anyone.

It was a huge surprise for Dipper, though, to get out of his car when he first showed up and walk into the house to see a stranger sitting on the couch, watching television, and munching on potato chips. “Hey, Pine Tree. Long time no see, huh? How old are you now… Eighteen? Nineteen?”

It took a while for Dipper to get used to the blonde dream demon casually strolling around the house, bothering everyone, waking up Dipper in the middle of the night to tell him that he found some “neat roadkill nearby,” and coming and going as he pleased. Ford told Dipper that it was best to pretend he wasn’t there.

“Hey, kid.” One morning, Bill beckoned Dipper to the kitchen table. The demon donned a loose beige sweater and black, ripped skinny jeans, and his single eye gleamed as Dipper sighed and sat down across from him with his coffee, glaring. Admittedly, Bill’s human form wasn’t as hideous as one would have guessed. Black fingernails, tan skin with a golden sheen, and his black triangular eyepatch were his most notable features. He ran his fingers through hair that looked bleached and grinned at Dipper, exhibiting animalistic, blinding white fangs. “You ever wanna know what trans-dimensional travel is like?”

Dipper sighed and sipped his coffee before replying with forced composure, “No, Bill. I don’t want to know what trans-dimensional travel is like.”

Bill cocked his head to the side. “Why not?” he inquired curiously. “That sort of thing would really help with Sixer’s and your research, y’know.” He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling with his wide golden eye. “And it’s a lot of fun. Ya never know what you’re gonna find in those dimensions.”

The boy groaned. “No. I know what happened to Fiddleford when he saw what was in your dimension, and—”

“That dimension decayed years ago, kid.” Bill sat normally again and put his elbows on the table, still smiling at Dipper, who leaned back slightly in response. “No, I just wanna show you some cool dimensions I found. And then you can write about them! For science, Pine Tree!”

“I don’t trust you,” Dipper said flatly, taking another sip of his coffee. “I don’t know if you’re going to take me somewhere dangerous, or leave me in a dimension and never take me home again. Heck, I don’t even know if you’re lying about your old dimension being gone. This could all be some sort of trick.”

“Trick?” Bill’s jaw dropped in mock horror. “You think that I, Bill Cipher, would play a trick on someone? I’m shocked!” He grasped his hair, his eye ridiculously wide. “How could you think that about me, Pine Tree? I thought we were friends!”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “You possessed my body when I was twelve.”

Suddenly, all signs of Bill’s feigned distress vanished from his face, and he chuckled. “Oh yeah, I did, didn’t I? That was pretty fun. It was fun for me, at least. I had a good time.”

“I know you did.” Dipper winced slightly and touched his hand, recalling how it had been stabbed through multiple times with forks.

After much back-and-forth arguing, Dipper was at his wit’s end. At last, he snapped, “Fine! I’ll travel with you! If it’ll make you leave me alone!” He downed the rest of his coffee and abruptly stood, storming over to the sink and putting his mug in it. “When are you taking me?”

“Now.”

Dipper turned to face him with his arms crossed. He leaned against the counter, glowering. “Now? Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” With that silly grin on his face, Bill looked like an excited puppy about to be taken out on a walk. “Just get some things before we go. What do humans need to survive again? You’ll probably want water, snacks, and a jacket. Maybe something for self-defense. Sometimes there’s other creatures out there.”

Dipper didn’t want to admit it, but the prospect of an adventure excited him a bit, even if it was an adventure with some maniacal demon. His heart rate picked up as he went to put on a jacket and grab a granola bar, and as he headed to the basement stairs to tell Ford where he was going, he paused. Should he tell him? Ford would just say to stay home and not trust Bill… It made sense, since after Ford returned from his adventures with his brother, he was content to live peacefully and cease going on anymore wild quests. He would say to Dipper that it was fine to stay at home and conduct research in his lab rather than go exploring. So, Dipper turned away from the basement, grabbed his polaroid camera, and marched up to Bill. “I’m ready,” he announced.

Bill’s eye wandered up Dipper, gazing at his cargo pants, flannel-lined coat, and camera. “You know you look like a tourist, right?” he asked with a mischievous smirk. Dipper just scowled.

 

* * *

 

After preparing breakfast a bit early, Will was called to Madam’s room, and he reluctantly went upstairs, pushing open her door. “Ma’am…?” he asked softly, entering with his head bowed and his gaze glued to the floor.

“Will. Come here and help me.” When Will glanced up, his eye widening when he saw Mabel standing in front of her mirror, wearing just panties and a bra. Warily, he came up to her, and she gestured to her bra with manicured turquoise nails. “I can’t close my bra; can you do it for me~?”

The demon’s entire face flushed a deep red while he reached up, his sweaty fingers slipping from the clasp a few times before he closed it, then he quickly stepped back and bowed. “Is that all, Madam?” he asked, his voice soft and timorous.

Mabel smirked and took a few steps toward her servant and draped her arms around his shoulders, leaning in until her plush, rosy lips brushed against Will’s ear. While Will trembled, sweated, and squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t be punished for staring at Madam’s body, she whispered, her voice deceptively mellifluous, “Are you nervous, demon?” She brushed her fingers through his cyan hair, toying with it. He took in a deep breath, unsure of what he was feeling. He was utterly terrified, but at the same time, aroused. She laughed softly and pushed her knee between his legs, her pale, bare thigh teasing him. “You like it when I touch you, don’t you, _filth_?”

Will bit his lip and nodded – he might as well be honest. It was as though Madam had cast a spell on him. His cheeks were warm, he sweated profusely, he couldn’t think straight or find the right words to say… And as he expected, she pulled her body away from his suddenly and struck him across the face with an open hand. He stepped back, gingerly touching his stinging cheek.

“You’re so pathetic, Will.” She smirked wickedly and went over to her closet, picking out a shirt and pulling her arms through the sleeves. “You don’t think I’d _actually_ fuck you, do you? I’d never let some filthy fucking demon touch me like that.” Once her shirt was buttoned up, she pointed to the floor, and Will, who had been standing patiently to the side of the room, trotted obediently over to her and knelt. He wanted nothing more than to flee her room to the safety of the kitchen, but he wasn’t allowed. He had no choice but to obey his owners’ commands. Mabel placed one foot on his shoulder, and without bringing his gaze up to her, he gently put a hand on her ankle to move her leg so he could kiss the top of her foot, silently pledging his submission to her. Satisfied, Mabel moved her foot to his chest and lightly kicked him back. “Go away. You’re not needed here anymore.”

He stood, murmured, “Yes, Madam,” and left, closing the door behind him. Once he was in the hall, he leaned against the wall, taking a moment to breathe and regain his composure. Damn his face for blushing and betraying his feelings for Madam…! He slipped into the bathroom for a moment, splashing cool water on his face and regarding his reflection in the mirror. Madam was right, he thought glumly, drying his face with his handkerchief. He was so pathetic. How could he ever think that she would reciprocate his adoration for her? But at the same time, it wasn’t as though he could stop himself from falling in love with her. Her sparkling blue eyes and long lashes, her slender, pale, inviting legs, her charming smile… If she wasn’t so cruel to him, she’d be perfect. He exited the bathroom and went back downstairs, setting the table for the family. Three different custom-made meals for his three masters – Madam had sourdough toast, fruit, and scrambled eggs; Master had diced potatoes, three strips of bacon, and fresh strawberries; the head of the household had an omelet, diced potatoes, ham, slightly overdone toast, and a mug of coffee. Will wasn’t allowed to eat breakfast with his masters. Instead, he remained in the kitchen, nibbling on fruit while wiping down the counters or doing dishes. At first, he was outraged that he wasn’t allowed to have meals with the family, but after some discipline, he quickly learned his place and accepted that as a demon and a servant, he was of a lower status and it made sense that he couldn’t sit at the table. It didn’t bother him much anymore. He accepted his place in the hierarchy of the Gleeful family.

…Ah, it was Monday. This was the day that Master and Madam would practice their magic tricks and the head of the household would be holed up in his office. This gave Will a few hours to abandon his daily chores and steal away to another dimension. When in the middle of dusting decorations in the family’s library, Will set down the rag and opened a portal, slipping into it for a bit of relief from his stress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah the plot's moving forward, inch by inch! Thank you for support on the previous chapter!  
> Beta by the-crow-caller.tumblr.com  
> My art blog is cerisia-tumblr.com if you'd like to see some of my Gravity Falls fanart!


	3. Meeting

The blue-haired demon sighed softly while lounging around in the dimension that was by far his favorite. It was so magical and calming, with a hint of mystery. It was like outer space. There were no floors or walls or ceilings to close him in, to confine him anywhere. It was inky black with the occasional “thing” floating by – three dimensional shapes, or shining stars... He floated over to his favorite spot, laying down and removing his eyepatch, giving his covered eye a bit of room to breathe. He was enjoying himself in this vast world of nearly nothingness, until he heard a voice in the distance. He groaned softly – it was Bill, who had surely come to annoy him. Then, he heard another voice, and a little way away, he saw Bill leading a brown-haired boy through the dimension, pointing out some of the objects.

Immediately, Will began to panic and fumbled to put his eyepatch on, covering up the hideous thing where his eye should be before standing, bowing his head when the two neared. What was Master Mason doing here – what was he doing here with /Bill/?

“Hey, Will!” Bill cheerfully waved when he recognized his parallel counterpart, and ran up to him. Dipper, who Will recognized as Mason Gleeful, followed behind, giving Will a curious look. In response, tears welled up in the blue-haired demon’s eyes and he fell to his knees. The last time he was caught slacking off, he was whipped until the skin on his back was shredded, and he couldn’t stand to have that happen again.

He kept his gaze down and whimpered pitifully, “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I-I just needed a break! I’ll get right back to work, Master! Please don’t punish me this time, please don’t tell Madam!” He sniffled and wiped his eye, brushing away tears. “Please… I-I’m truly sorry…”

Bill crossed his arms and cocked his head while eyeing Will. “Hey, Willy-kins, relax. This isn’t your master.”

“Master…?” Dipper glanced at Bill, then down at the sniveling demon. “What’s going on? Bill, who’s this?” When Will blinked up at him, Dipper nearly gasped. He looked /exactly/ like Bill! Could this be Bill from another dimension? Yet, this creature – Will – didn’t seem to be as malicious or mischievous as the demon who tried to destroy Gravity Falls. He knelt down in front of Will and smiled. “Hey, are you okay?”

Will, to Dipper’s surprise, flinched back as if Dipper was about to strike him. “F-fine, Master! I’m fine! Please don’t trouble yourself with-“

“Will, shut the fuck up,” Bill interrupted bluntly. “This is Dipper Pines. He’s not your Master.”

“P-Pines?” Will looked up at Bill, then back to Dipper, confusion taking over his features. “Dipper… Pines?” He still shrank back, holding his hands close to his chest. Dipper noticed what fancy clothes Will was wearing in that moment – a black suit, bowtie, crisp white shirt, and expensive-looking shoes. Though he noticed a small red stain on his shirt collar – was that paint? Or blood?

Dipper nodded, bringing his attention back to Will’s face. “Yeah, I’m Dipper Pines. Nice to meet you, Will.”

“You’re not… Master?”

“I…” Dipper shook his head. “I’m not anyone’s master.”

Bill nodded in affirmation. “Right. Will, this is Mason Gleeful from a parallel dimension.”

The brunet boy glanced at Bill. “Wait, ‘Gleeful?’” But Bill didn’t answer him.

“Guess we should do formal introductions, huh? Will, this is Mason Pines, AKA Dipper, AKA Pine Tree.” He gestured to the teenager, then stepped over to Will. “And Pine Tree, this is Will Cipher, AKA crybaby bitch.”

Will glared at Bill and huffed, but held out his hand. It was trembling as he invited Dipper to shake it, so the boy hesitated, but shook it and smiled warmly. “So…” Dipper began, addressing both demons. “There’s another version of me? And his last name is Gleeful? As in Gideon Gleeful?”

“…Gideon Pines,” Will whispered before Bill responded:

“Yeah. So, Will lives in a dimension parallel to yours,” he explained. “Think of it like the opposite of your world. Will, unlike me, is a total loser who made a stupid deal and became a slave to Mason and Mabel Gleeful, who treat him like garbage.” Will cast his gaze down as Bill spoke. “And they’re like Gideon Gleeful from your dimension. They run the Tent of Telepathy and do some fucked up magic shows. Also, they’re assholes. Don’t mess with them.”

Dipper was having a hard time processing this. “So, Mabel and I, we have evil parallel versions of us? What about Gideon in this dimension?”

“Gideon Pines is a very nice kid,” Will replied quietly. “He stays in the Falls with his cousin Pacifica and he’s kind to me. But Master and Madam always want me to hurt them.”

“Wait, /Pacifica/? Pacifica Northwest?”

“Southeast,” he corrected.

“Geez… There’s alternate version of everyone in your dimension, huh?” Dipper asked, awed. “Grunkle Stan and Ford, too? What about Soos? And Wendy? Oh, is there a Waddles in your dimension? You know, the pig?”

Will nodded. “I… I believe all of those people exist there, but I’m not personally acquainted with all of them.”

Dipper’s eyes lit up. “Can I go meet them? Bill, can we go there?”

The yellow-haired demon, for once, appeared hesitant. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” He was chewing on his lip as if nervous. Bill Cipher, nervous? An almost laughable thought. “Sixer would kill me if I took you there.”

“Why…?”

“’Cause it’d endanger your life.”

Will nodded solemnly. “Master and Madam wouldn’t be kind to you. They’re very…” He paused and rubbed one of his wrists, and for a moment, translucent and glowing blue shackles and chains attached to his wrists appeared. Dipper blinked, but in an instant, they were gone. “…They’re very unpleasant people.”

Dipper shook his head stubbornly. “You can’t just tell me that there are versions of us from a _parallel universe_ and then not let me meet them! I want to see what this ‘other’ me is like! And the other Mabel!”

Will winced slightly and stepped back. “There’s plenty of other dimensions for you to visit, sir. Other dimensions that _don’t_ have Master and Madam and…” He swallowed and cast his gaze down. “They’re awful. They’re awful people. You’re lucky that you haven’t met them.”

“ _Lucky_ , are they?”

Will flinched and looked up, his eye going wider than the moon. He thought it was Dipper speaking, but behind his visitors, he could see a boy advancing on them, taking long, fast strides. Leather shoes, black trousers, a turquoise vest, black shirt, a cape that billowed behind him, capturing the likeness of a galaxy within its fabric, and a blue pendant secured to a ribbon around his neck that glowed menacingly. Will cried out and fell back, scrambling for safety as Mason Gleeful briskly passed Dipper and Bill, heading for the terrified demon. “M-Master wait please!” he stuttered, words tumbling quickly from his mouth. “Please please don’t do it don’t punish me I’ll get back to work! I’ll go r-right n- _ah!_ ” He cried out when Mason’s shoe connected with his side, kicking his abdomen.

“You useless fucking demon,” Mason said coldly, his features devoid of emotion, save for the glimmer of fury in his piercing blue eyes. “You’re not allowed to take breaks until you’re done with chores. Are you really so stupid that you forgot that rule already?”

Will coughed weakly, his body curling in on itself, as if it would protect him from his master. It wouldn’t. “N-nh… No, Master, b-but I was tired, and-“

“That’s your excuse?” The boy who looked startlingly like Dipper stomped on one of Will’s hands, betraying no empathetic response to how it brought fresh tears to Will’s eye and a soft cry from his lips. Dipper was frozen in place as he watched – this was his alternate self? He looked almost exactly like him, but was nothing like him. Besides the obvious differences, the neatly groomed hair, fancy clothes, and blue eyes, this person was so fucked up. Dipper glanced up at Bill, seeing if he had any response, but the demon just crossed his arms and shook his head, making no move to stop Mason.

Mason lifted his shoe and glowered down at him. “The rules exist for a reason, Will. Get up, I’m taking you home. Great Uncle Stanford’s going to be interested to hear about this.”

Will visibly flinched at the mention of the name, and stood on shaking legs in front of Mason. “N-no! Master, you can’t tell him! I’ll do all my chores, I promise! I’ll do them all _twice!_ But don’t tell Master Stanford!”

“…Hey.” Dipper finally mustered up the courage to step forward, his heart pounding as his doppelganger faced him. Although he remained apathetic, slight confusion caused his brow to furrow when he made eye contact with Dipper, clearly wondering why this boy looked like him. “Can you… be a little nicer to Will? He’s clearly trying his best.”

Mason scoffed. “His best isn’t good enough. But who are you?” He took a few wary steps up to Dipper, tilting his chin up and eyeing him. Dipper noticed that they even had the same exact birthmark on their foreheads. How odd.

“I’m Dipper Pines,” he said, trying to remain polite, despite just witnessing this person kicking Will, who clearly didn’t deserve it. What kind of a sadistic monster would do that anyways? “And you’re Mason Gleeful, right? I guess we’re the same person, from different dimensions… Oh, and this is Bill Cipher.” Bill waved.

“Pines… From another dimension. Now what was that… Ah, yes.” Mason snapped his fingers as he seemed to recall something. “I’m acquainted with Stanford Pines. I know your dimension.” He trailed his index finger across Dipper’s jaw, admiring the puzzled look in Dipper’s brown eyes as he did so. He leaned in slightly, murmuring, “And if you’re anything like Stanford Pines, you’re a pathetic loser who lets his emotions get in the way of rational thought.”

Dipper’s brow furrowed, and he slapped Mason’s hand away. “You’re a dick, you know that?” he growled, losing the polite tone. “I already hate you.”

Mason nodded slowly, looking strangely smug. “A lot of people do.” He turned on his heel. “Will, open a portal. We’re going home.”

Will winced and waved his hand, creating a swirling green portal. Mason gave a final glance to Dipper and Bill before grabbing the blue-haired demon’s hand, dragging him into the portal with him and closing it once they were through.

Dipper blinked and rubbed his eyes. “…Was that real?” he asked softly. “Did that just happen?”

“Yeah.” Bill nonchalantly turned, opening a different portal. “What dimension do you wanna see next?”

“What?” Dipper grabbed the demon’s arm and clung tightly, refusing to let him go through the swirling vortex. “Are you serious? What about Will?”

“What about him?”

“He isn’t okay! He needs help!”

“Will chose that life for himself. He should’ve known not to make deal with creepy telepathic twins.” Bill pushed him off his arm. “He doesn’t need rescuing.”

Dipper crossed his arms. “You saw how he was being treated!”

“Yeah.” Seeing as it wouldn’t be used, Bill closed the portal. “He signed up for it. And it’s not like he’s going to die. Worst case scenario, his human form gets destroyed and he has to regenerate it. No big deal.”

“He’s _suffering!_ ”

“C’est la vie,” Bill replied, butchering the French words and making Dipper cringe. “Come on, let’s go exploring. I wanna see more places. And you wanna go take some cool pictures, right?”

“I-I do…” Dipper admitted. “But I want to help Will first! He’s being abused!”

Bill let out a heavy, exasperated sigh, and Dipper wondered if it bothered him in the least that they’d just witnessed someone innocent being kicked, stepped on, and insulted. “He’s gonna be fine, Pine Tree. Let’s go do something fun and take your mind off of it.”

Dipper’s mind, obviously, was _not_ taken off of it.

Bill took him to all sorts of strange dimensions. He announced the official name of each of them as they entered. C-137, J19ζ7, 305-X… Dipper couldn’t memorize all the names, but took a few Polaroid photos for memories. He could also show them to Ford as proud evidence that he was going on adventures like Ford had when he was younger.

Dipper wanted nothing more than to impress Ford. Even before he knew the man’s name, and referred to him simply as “The author of the journals,” he fantasized about the intellectual discussions they’d have, and the praise he’d get for being such a bright kid. Now, at nineteen, he still had those fantasies. He greatly valued the time he got to spend with his great-uncle, and couldn’t help that his heart beat a little faster if Ford told him he was doing a good job, or was smart for his age… And Dipper was always eager to help him with his experiments – heck, he’d clean Ford’s entire lab if it got him a little praise.

He brought back the polaroid photos, showing them to Ford at the dinner table and describing all the interesting things he got to see. Ford expressed disappointment in Bill for taking him out without asking permission, but agreed that it was a good opportunity for Dipper to see things outside of this dimension and get some real experience with otherworldly things.

But as he went to bed that night, he couldn’t keep his mind off of Will.

What was the demon doing now? Was he in bed, too? Or was he still awake, doing whatever chores he was assigned? Was he being hurt? Did he want Dipper to come and rescue him?

And how could he get Bill to take him to Will’s dimension…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I'm procrastinating on two papers for school by writing this. Don't forget to leave kudos! I love you all!


	4. Family

“Where was he, brother dear?” Mabel Gleeful asked, her hands on her hips as she watched Mason drag Will into the room that was used to plan their shows and design props – and torture Will. The twins often tied him to the target they used to practice throwing knives and used _him_ as the target.

Mason tossed Will to the floor carelessly and straightened the cape around his shoulders. “He was slacking off in another dimension. As usual.”

She sneered down at Will, who flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. “What a useless piece of shit. You hear that, demon? You’re useless!”

Will whined and nodded in acknowledgement. If Master and Madam said he was useless, he was useless, and if he didn’t agree, he risked punishment.

Of course, punishment was inevitable.

He was pulled to his feet and shoved against one of the several tables in the room, Mabel leering at him. “What should we do to him for running away, dear brother?” she said in a sing-song voice that made Will wince. That tone never meant good things were coming.

Mason gave an apathetic shrug. Typical Mason. “I don’t know, sister. Maybe we should cut off his legs so he can’t run.”

Will squeaked and covered his mouth. _No!_ Amputation _hurt!_

“No…” Mabel sighed, leaning in a bit too close for comfort as she eyed Will. He shrank back as much as he could. “How’s he going to do chores with his legs off?”

“He can crawl,” suggested Mason, running his fingers through his hair to ensure that it looked nice.

Mabel giggled at the thought, but continued to ponder other ways of punishing their servant. “We could cut off just one of his legs. Or whip him.”

The boy pulled out a small mirror in his pocket, checking his reflection. “Whipping is boring. We do that all the time.” He found something stuck between his teeth and picked at it with his fingernail.

Mabel released Will, swiftly walked up to Mason, and plucked the mirror from his hands. “Do you have any better ideas, my darling brother?” she asked sardonically.

Mason glared and snatched his mirror back, but the irate look in his chilling azure eyes vanished as an idea popped into his mind. He turned to smirk at Will, who had begun to back away into a corner. “We should cut off one of his ears. Then make him cook it and eat it.”

The girl’s eyes lit up too. “Autocannibalism, hm? That’s a wonderful idea!”

“M-madam,” Will stammered, reaching up and covering one of his ears fearfully. “I’m very sorry for running away. I a-assure you, you don’t need to punish me, I already understand what I did wrong, a-and I won’t do it again…” His eye widened as Mabel came back over to him, and he tried to duck out of the way, but she grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked hard enough to make him yelp.

“You always say that. You always say, ‘Master, Madam, I’ll never do it again!’” She mocked Will in a high-pitched voice, then cackled. “As if! You need to learn your fucking lesson, you worthless trash!”

Tears sprang to Will’s eye as he weakly tried to pull himself from her grasp. “A-ah… I’m sorry, Ma’am, yes ma’am, I’ll learn my lesson…” His heels dragged on the floor as he was pulled over to Mason, who was contemplating which dagger was best for severing his ear.

* * *

The twins were lazing around in the library after dinner that evening. They were instructed to work on their studies, but Mason ended up messing around with his Tarot cards while Mabel practiced using the telekinetic powers from the amulet she wore on her headband, making books hover off of their shelves and open and close.

After a little while, Mason spoke up. “Dearest sister, something interesting happened while I was getting Will today. He wasn’t alone in that dimension, and I’m not sure if I should tell Great Uncle Stanford who he was with.”

“Who was he with?” Mabel curiously inquired as she returned the floating books to their rightful places.

“An alternate version of myself,” he replied, gathering his Tarot cards neatly into a deck. “Do you remember Stanford Pines?”

“Ah.” She chuckled. “Yeah. He was fun to mess with.”

“It’s his nephew… Mason Pines. But he calls himself ‘Dipper,’ and he was with-“

“He does!” Mabel giggled. “He seriously calls himself Dipper? That stupid nickname from when you were a kid?”

Mason scowled. “Kindly shut the hell up, sister, and let me continue. It was the strangest experience; as if I was looking into a mirror, but… He was an ill-dressed and scruffy. Brown eyes, like Stanford Pines. And he was with another version of Will.”

At that, Mabel perked up. “Another Cipher demon?”

“…He must be Bill Cipher, the one that Stanford talks about.”

The twins locked eyes, and they each smiled. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, dearest brother?”

Mason adjusted the amulet around his neck as he said, eyes gleaming, “We bring Bill Cipher to Great Uncle Stanford and win his approval. Then, maybe he’ll consider letting us have access to the money we earn from our magic shows.”

Mabel stood from her chair and walked up to her twin, leaning over the desk with a sly smirk. Brown curled hair cascaded over her shoulders and her hand found its way to Mason’s chin, lifting it up as she gazed into his eyes, murmuring, “Great minds think alike, don’t they?”

* * *

 

“Please, Bill!”

“No.”

Dipper stood in front of the television with his arms steadfastly crossed over his chest, obstructing Bill’s view of his show. “Please take me to the other dimension! I want to help Will!”

“Too dangerous.” Bill moved his head to one side to see the TV, but Dipper moved with him. “Move, I’m missing the action!”

The boy turned and switched off the TV, making Bill utter a cry of disappointment. “I don’t care if it’s dangerous! If I can survive Weirdmaggedon, I can survive a parallel dimension!” He walked up to Bill, glaring down at the blonde demon. Lowering his voice, he added, “Stan and Ford don’t have to know. And you don’t have to come with me – just drop me off there and pick me up later, since you’re clearly scared of that place.”

That provoked him. Bill stood, his yellow eye gleaming. “You think I’m scared of that place? I could kill everyone in that weird reversed Pines family if I wanted. But _you’re_ gonna regret going. Trust me.”

“We won’t know that if I never get the chance to go!” Dipper protested. “Come on, just for a couple hours! Take me there and come get me before dinner. I’m not going to leave you alone until you do!”

Bill rolled his eye. He was starting to cave, much to Dipper’s delight. “I don’t know why you’re so intent on helping Will. He’s kind of a dick. Not really worth your time.”

Dipper gave him a dirty look. “How can you say that? He was being abused by the other version of me!”

“He kinda deserves it, to be honest.”

“That’s ridiculous. No one deserves to be hurt like that.”

“Boy, you’re fuckin’ naïve.” Bill waved his hand lazily, opening a portal. “That should take you there. Don’t forget, the Gleefuls are nothing like your family. They got a few screws loose.” He gestured with his hand, swirling his finger around to indicate that they were insane. “And another thing – Try to avoid Ford Gleeful if you can.”

“Why-“ Dipper broke off as Bill shoved him into the portal and closed it. He tumbled into another room, his head colliding with the floor. He hissed softly, reaching up and rubbing his forehead where there would surely be a bruise. He would have preferred to just walk through the portal, but on the plus side… He seemed to be in the other dimension. He got up, looking around. He’d landed in an under-furnished bedroom… Did it belong to someone? There were no decorations save for an analog clock, and the only furniture was a small, plain-looking bed with stained white sheets and a nightstand, and two doors – one a closet, and one presumably leading to the rest of the house. He began investigating the room. Was he really in another dimension, or just someone’s old bedroom? He went to the nightstand and examined a framed photo, brown eyes widening slightly. In front of a dark blue backdrop, there were three people. Himself, his sister, and Ford. But this couldn’t be _his_ family. He recognized the dull look in “his” blue eyes, and knew that this was Mason Gleeful. Beside him, with a hand on his shoulder, must be Mabel Gleeful. She looked so much more mature than his own sister, with her hair groomed and curled, and donning a long navy blue gown along with a few pieces of jewelry. Her face was devoid of emotion as well, strangely enough. Behind them… Certainly, this was Stanford Gleeful.

Staring at the parallel Ford gave Dipper the strangest feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t explain it, but he could feel those sharp blue eyes behind glasses boring a hole into him. Like Mason and Mabel, his lips formed a taut frown, and he wore a blue suit – something that Ford Pines would never do (“They’re too stiff, just let me wear my turtleneck,” he would say).

Dipper set the picture down quietly, too uncomfortable to look at it any longer. Besides, it raised too many questions. Where was Stanley in all of this? Why were they dressed so formally for a family picture? Moreover, did the Gleeful twins not have parents to take pictures with? And why weren’t any of them smiling? They were all stiff, formal, and looked angry and intimidating. Once, he and Mabel had done a photoshoot with Stan and Ford, but they had very few pictures that turned out well; most of them were blurry because they were always laughing, moving around too much, hugging, and trying to catch Waddles, who would frequently slip out of Mabel’s arms and find things to chew on. The Pines family had a ridiculous about of energy and playfulness, and the Gleefuls seemed to be exactly the opposite.

He checked the rest of the room, searching for clues to indicate who slept here. In the drawers, there were a couple pictures of Mabel Gleeful, one of Mason, and three bottles of painkiller pills. The closet held several suits, some of them stained with dark red. God, Dipper hoped that it wasn’t blood…

Dipper could sense his heart rate picking up as he reached for the door handle, deciding to see where exactly he was. What if someone saw him? What if Mason Gleeful found him snooping around? Taking a deep breath, he pulled open the door as quietly as he could, creeping out into the hallway and gasping at what he saw.

The hall was enormous. This had to be a mansion. The hallway seemed to stretch on for a mile, and numerous doors lined it while large paintings, surely expensive ones, hung on the walls that towered above Dipper. Awestruck, he slowly started wandering down, admiring the decorations. Everything looked so grand. He felt like he was in a castle.

When a door opened in front of him, Dipper was suddenly brought back to reality, forgetting his fascination with the appearance of the place. His heart stopped as someone stepped out in front of him, but sighed softly when he recognized the blue hair. It was just Will. The demon started walking towards Dipper, eyes cast down, then looked up and gasped at the sight of him. “Oh! A-are you… Dipper Pines?” he whispered warily. When he came closer, he asked, “What are you doing here, sir? You shouldn’t be here!”

Dipper smiled awkwardly. “Well… I wanted to check on you. And make sure you’re doing okay.”

Will frowned. “I’m fine… But you can’t let Master and Madam see you here.”

Looking over Will, Dipper noticed bruises that weren’t there yesterday. Around the eye that wasn’t covered, there was a faint yellowish discoloration, and his lip was split, dried blood crusted over the small wound. These were all subtle, but Will had clearly been abused recently. “You’re not fine. I wanna rescue you, Will.”

The demon blinked with his eye big and round, and for a moment, Dipper thought he was in disbelief that he was being helped, but then, he smiled and laughed softly. “You can’t ‘rescue’ me, sir. I’m bound to my masters. It’s impossible for me to leave them.”

“But you’ve been hurt!”

“I’m always hurt.” Will started trotting down the hall. “Come, before someone finds you here. You can hide in my room.”

After giving the vast hallway a final glance, Dipper followed him back to the room he first appeared in. Will closed the door behind them, pausing and listening for footsteps outside before turning back to Dipper with a soft sigh. “How did you get here?” he asked, sitting down on his bed, his gaze intently fixed on the boy, who sheepishly looked away.

“Bill. He sent me through a portal…”

“I see. Why would he do something so stupid?”

Dipper winced slightly. “…I asked him to.”

Will’s expression softened slightly. “Oh. I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“It’s okay. And you don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ you know.” Dipper sat down beside him, eyeing a dark red stain on the blanket between them. His eyes traveled up to Will’s bruised face. “I won’t hurt you like he does.”

Realizing what he was looking at, Will brushed his fingers over the yellow bruise around his eye. “This bothers you, doesn’t it? It’s nothing. I can hardly feel it anymore.”

Dipper’s hand went up, gently taking Will’s and holding it. “It’s not ‘nothing.’ You’re being hurt and this has to stop immediately. Where’s Mason Gleeful? I want to talk to him.”

At that, Will pulled his hand away and shrank back. “You shouldn’t. You need to go home as soon as possible. Don’t get involved in the business of the Gleeful family.”

“Mason’s abusing you-“

“No,” Will insisted firmly, suddenly standing. “When I’m punished, it’s because I deserve it. It’s in the rules.”

Dipper gazed up at Will. He bore a defiant expression, but there was clearly a hint of fear reflected in his single blue eye. “Will, you don’t-“

“Someone’s coming.”

The boy blinked, surprised by the interruption. Will had turned towards the door, alert and tense. Then, he suddenly grabbed Dipper, pushing him towards the closet. “Hide!”

Quick, light footsteps came down the hall as Dipper squeezed himself into the closet, making himself as small as possible while covering his mouth to muffle the sounds of his breathing. Will slammed the closet door shut just as the bedroom door opened. Oh, how Dipper wished he could see what was going on…

“Will,” said Mason Gleeful. Dipper narrowed his eyes. Not this guy again. Had he come to hit Will again? “Will, what are you doing in here? You still have to clean the bathrooms.”

“A-ah, the bathrooms. Yes, sir, I’ll get right to it,” Will replied meekly.

The silence that followed troubled Dipper, and he shifted slightly.

Then, Mason asked, “What were you doing with your closet?”

“Ah…”

“Let me guess.” A creaking sound. Mason was seated on the bed. “You stole some of my sister’s underwear again and you’re hiding it in there so you can… I don’t know, masturbate with it, I suppose. You vile creature.” He laughed softly. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her, as long as you wash it thoroughly.”

“Yes, sir,” said Will softly. “I will.”

Footsteps, the sound of the door closing, and Will hurried to the closet, opening it up. “You can come out now, sir. Master’s left.”

Dipper smiled up at him and clambered out of the closet. “Thanks… I was scared he would find me.”

Will’s gaze fell to his shoes. “If you don’t leave soon, he _will_ find you,” he whispered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a lot of work due this week! I haven't had much time to work on my story as a result... Though this is more fun to write than a six page essay haha. I hope you enjoy! There's some unpleasantness implied in this chapter, but we'll get into the gory, graphic details a little later. Be warned that coming up quite a bit later is sexual assault. I'm not sure how graphic the portrayal will be, but I'll put a warning in front of the chapter when it happens.   
> Comments are appreciated greatly, as are kudos! Suggestions for chapter length and pacing are more than welcome. I'm also working on characterization and giving characters strong, unique personalities.  
> Thanks for reading!  
> Beta by the-crow-caller.tumblr.com


	5. Dinner

Dipper was left in Will’s small room while the demon returned to his chores. He’d been there for no more than an hour before starting to feel not only bored, but curious about the rest of the house, about this odd family, and how he could help Will get away from them. There wasn’t really a better word for his situation than “sad.” It was sad that he was held captive like this and treated the way he was. So, swallowing his uneasiness about encountering the alternate version of himself, Dipper made his way to the door and opened it slowly and as quietly as possible. It felt almost like he was a spy in a movie, infiltrating the enemy’s base and learning their secrets. He shut the door behind him and ventured out into the long, empty corridor. This was a mansion, wasn’t it? But were its only inhabitants the Gleeful family and Will? Was that why it was so eerily quiet and empty?

He began to wander down the hall, peering at closed doors but not daring to open them, fearful that someone – one of the Gleefuls, or Will – would catch him exploring the house. If Will found him, he’d scold him and send him back to the bedroom, and if Mason Gleeful was the one to discover him… Well, he wasn’t sure what would happen, but it wouldn’t end well for him.

He was halfway down the hall when a door in front of him opened, and he froze, tensed up as someone stepped out into the hall and began to walk in the opposite direction from him. For a moment, he could have sworn that was his sister. The girl had the same long brown hair, but unlike his sister, she wore turquoise heels, a blue blazer, and a short skirt. She hadn’t noticed Dipper at all, and continued down the hall until she reached a pair of doors at the end of the hall. Exquisitely carved into mahogany and standing a good two or three feet taller than Dipper, they probably held something important, or valuable behind them, but the girl shut the grand doors before Dipper could get a look of what lay behind them. For a few moments, he lingered in the hall, unsure of what to do. When the doors were pushed open again, the girl who looked like Mabel strode out.

Now, Dipper could get a better look at her, and it struck him that this person, Mabel Gleeful, was nothing like his sister. Her heels made her significantly taller than him, for one thing. Her hair was neatly curled into ringlets, something that his own sister only bothered with when she was going out somewhere fancy. This version of Mabel, not noticing Dipper standing off to the side of the hall, turned suddenly to head down the stairs, so Dipper didn’t have a chance to study her face, but as far as he could tell, she was wearing a lot of makeup, including blue eyeshadow and caked-on foundation topped with blush – a bit over-the-top, although his own sister would go all-out like that too, given the chance.

The doors, he realized suddenly, his gaze snapping back to them. They were now unguarded.

Once she was out of sight, Dipper began inching toward the mysterious room with the grand doors, and after taking a deep breath to prepare himself for whatever might lay on the other side, he opened one and stepped into the room.

Fuck, there was someone else in here.

He didn’t recognize him at first, hunched over the mahogany desk, writing in a book with a peacock-feather pen. Dipper watched for a moment, his whole body tense as he waited to be noticed, and then he spied the man’s hand. Six fingers. This was Ford. Now that he realized that he had the same silvery hair and glasses, this man was undeniably the other version of his own great-uncle. However, like the other Mabel, the two had their differences. This Ford donned a royal blue cape with a white fur trim that seemed to glow in the light that the windows behind him cast. Nestled in the fur beneath Ford’s neck was a bright blue gem that caught Dipper’s eye when the man shifted. He glanced up, briefly, and then kept his gaze down.

It was strange to hear Ford’s voice coming out of this man, who was Ford but somehow wasn’t Ford. “Close the door behind you if you want to talk, Mason,” he said, and Dipper blinked, puzzled for a moment. He must have mistaken him for the other Dipper. The boy moved cautiously as he went to close the door, recalling something that Bill mentioned before sending him to this dimension.

Avoid Ford Gleeful.

But it was _Ford_. He had no reason to avoid Ford.

When Ford Gleeful noticed that Dipper wasn’t speaking, he said, “What do you want, boy? Don’t just stand there.” He glanced up, then back down, and back up again, his brow furrowed. Dipper just stared. Like his own doppelganger, this Ford had an icy blue gaze that cut into him.

“Hi,” Dipper said softly, raising his hand awkwardly in greeting. “I, uh… I’m not…”

“You’re not Mason,” he finished, placing two six-fingered hands on the desk and pushing himself up. He walked slowly around the desk, keeping his eyes trained on Dipper. “Who are you?”

“I…” Could Dipper explain this properly? He rubbed the back of his neck as the man who looked just like his great-uncle approached him, inspecting him like he was some sort of specimen. “I’m Dipper… Dipper Pines. I, uh, come from another dimension? And Mason Gleeful, that’s another version of me, I guess. I’m not an expert, Bill could probably explain it better–“

“I understand,” he interrupted, and placed a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. He offered him a warm and friendly smile, one that broke both the room’s tension and the cold, mysterious air about Ford Gleeful. A bit startled, Dipper glanced up at him, but soon was smiling, too. “I research the supernatural, the abnormal, the paranormal… I know all about other dimensions.” He took his hand off of Dipper and opened the office door. “Will! Come here, we have a guest!”

Footsteps came up the stairs, and Will Cipher appeared at the doors. As he entered, he gave Dipper a concerned sideways glance, then bowed his head. “Sir?”

“Get a chair for him. And drinks. Do you drink wine, Dipper?”

“I’m underage, so…”

“That’s not important. It’s perfectly fine to drink in my house. Fetch us something, Will.”

Once Will pulled up a chair to the desk for Dipper and scurried out of the room, Dipper sat down while the older man took his seat across from him. The boy turned, eyeing the door for a moment, then returned his attention to Ford. He still held a friendly smile as he pulled out a notebook from one of the drawers, flipping through the pages until he found what he wanted. Then, he showed it to Dipper. “See, I’ve studied dimensions and timelines. It’s fascinating how there are worlds where things are so different from your own, and yet the same. In this case… You look just like my nephew, but you’re… scruffier. Friendlier. You have brown eyes.”

Dipper nodded, his eyes scanning the illegible scribbles. “Yeah. Your Dipper- Your Mason is pretty much the opposite of me. And the girl I saw, she looks just like my sister Mabel. You, you look like my great-uncle Ford.”

The older man leaned back in his chair, nodded thoughtfully, then sat back up. “How rude of me, I haven’t formally introduced myself yet. Stanford Gleeful.” He held out his hand, and Dipper shook it. He had such a firm grip; it caught him off-guard.

“I guess I’m Mason Pines, but everyone calls me Dipper.”

“Ah. The birthmark.” Stanford nodded and laughed softly. “‘Dipper’ was Mason’s nickname when he was a boy, but he came to resent it. His sister still teases him about it.”

Dipper could feel his cheeks heating up. “I guess it’s kind of a weird name… But I like it.”

“It’s a fine name,” Stanford assured him, and glanced up when Will entered the room with a bottle of red wine and two glasses. “Thank you, Will. Set them here.”

Dipper watched as the blue-haired demon set down the glasses, then open the bottle. As he started to pour it, he could see the bottle shaking in his hands, trembling, threatening to slip out of his palms. When he glanced over, Stanford was staring too, almost glaring at Will as he poured the wine. Finally, he was able to finish, and pushed one glass to Stanford and the other to Dipper. “T-there you are. Please enjoy.”

Once the deed was finished, Stanford relaxed, thanked him, and dismissed him. The door was soon shut, and Dipper picked up the glass by the stem, swirling it around. “…So, what’s the deal with him?” he asked softly. “He was shaking. And he’s got bruises.” If he said anymore, Stanford would know that Will was hiding him in his room, and he wasn’t sure if the man should know that yet.

Stanford hummed and nodded, taking a sip from his glass before replying. “That’s just how he is. He always shakes.”

Dipper prompted, “The bruises…?”

“The ones on his face? Those must be from the twins as part of a punishment,” he replied nonchalantly.

“That’s kinda cruel, isn’t it?”

Stanford didn’t reply. He took another sip, set down his glass, and asked, “So tell me, Dipper Pines. How did you end up in my house?”

Dipper blinked, appalled that he would ignore the question. But, he was a guest, and had an obligation to be polite, so he answered, “I have a… friend who sent me here. Through a portal. I ended up in the hallway out there, and I wasn’t sure what else to do, so I walked in here.”

“That’s reasonable,” Stanford said with a nod. “Have you been properly introduced to my niece and nephew yet?”

“Well…” he started. “I met Mason in a different dimension, but I haven’t really met your Mabel yet.”

“How would you like to stay for dinner?” he offered. “Will can cook something fantastic for us, and you can get acquainted with the twins. Perhaps we can further discuss the differences between our dimensions. You can tell me about your own Stanford.”

Dipper paused, taking a moment to think. The longer he spent here, the better. He’d have more of an opportunity to get Will out of here if he better knew the family that he lived with. With that in mind, he nodded. “That would be super cool, thank you. I’d… I’d also like to get to know Will a little better. He seems nice.”

At that comment, Stanford leaned back again, eyeing Dipper. “He’s just a servant. He’s busy most of the time, anyways. He has chores to do."

Despite the man’s welcoming nature, Dipper fidgeted in his chair as he started to feel uncomfortable. Stanford was deliberately allowing the Gleeful twins to abuse Will – Dipper had to somehow bring a stop to this. But while he tried to direct the conversation back to Will, Stanford always changed the subject. Then, finally, the older man stood, picked up his half-empty wine glass, and said, “Do you want to stay the night, too? I can have Will prepare a guest room for you.”

“Stay the night…? I suppose I could. But maybe I should tell Stan and Ford where I am…”

“You can just tell them in the morning when you go home,” Stanford said quickly, waving his hand as he made his way to the door. “It’ll be fine.” He paused and once again changed the subject. “…Stan, as in Stanley?”

Dipper nodded, getting up too, leaving his wine glass on the desk, unsure if it was rude to say he wouldn’t drink it. “Stanley, yeah. There’s a version of him in this dimension too, right?”

For a moment, the older man seemed lost in thought. He stared at the wall for a moment, and before Dipper could prompt him, he sighed and shook his head. ‘There is. But he and I aren’t on good terms. We haven’t spoken in years. If you want to meet him… I don’t know where you’d find him. He’s probably in another state, selling used cars.” He sighed again and exited the room.

* * *

Will led Dipper to a door in the center of the hall, between Will’s room and the bedrooms of the Gleeful twins. He pushed open the door and flicked on the light, and Dipper couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him when he saw how utterly extravagant the room was. For a guest room, this was pretty damn nice, with an enormous canopy bed, a rug that was possibly the softest-looking rug Dipper had ever seen, a large wooden wardrobe in the corner, a writing desk, and two deep brown curtains tied neatly to either side of a window that gave a spectacular view of the forest behind the mansion. He wandered into the room that was filled with warm earthy tones that made him feel like the room was a part of some magical forest, staring at everything with awe. “Are you sure this is the guest room?” he asked, running his hand over one of the engraved poles on the bed. “This is fit for a king!”

The demon laughed softly, and Dipper quietly noticed how cute his laugh was. “This is indeed the guest room, sir. Master Stanford likes to make good impressions on people. Ah, and there’s a bathroom attached to this room – the door’s there. Would you like me to draw a bath for you after dinner?”

“That would be fantastic!” Dipper threw himself onto the bed, moaning at how soft the thing was. “Thank you so much, Will!”

“I’m just doing my job. Come downstairs at 6:30 for dinner.” Will shut the door behind him when he left, and Dipper was allowed a bit of time to himself. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand – he had forty minutes. He lay down in the bed, contemplating how he should spend his time before he drifted off into a light sleep, the bed wrapping him up in its softness.

He awoke just minutes before 6:30, and stood, stretched, and made his way downstairs. Where was the dining room? No one had told him… He began to wander the first floor, noticing rooms for billiards, a miniature gym, what appeared to be an entrance to a pool or a spa or something… He was starting to get lost, he realized, so he decided to follow the smell of dinner instead – the air smelled vaguely of salmon. After a couple minutes, he was able to find the dining room, and was greeted by a long table. At the head of the table was Stanford, and on either side of him sat the Gleeful twins. Stanford looked up at Dipper with a warm smile, but Dipper shrank back slightly when he saw the twins glaring at him.

“You’re late,” Mabel Gleeful commented coldly.

Mason Gleeful checked his watch. “You’re late by four minutes… and thirty seconds.”

“Now, now, you two,” Stanford said, and beckoned for Dipper to come to the table. “Your place is there, Dipper, next to Mabel.”

As Dipper pulled out the chair and sat down, gazing down at the meal in front of him, he could feel Mabel’s eyes boring holes into his head. She remarked, “Do you normally show up to dinner looking like that?”

“That?” Dipper turned to her, offended. “What’s that mean?”

Stanford said sharply, “Mabel. Be nice to our guest. Have you even properly introduced yourself?”

The girl who looked strangely like Dipper’s sister rolled her eyes. Up close, Dipper could tell she was definitely wearing a lot of makeup. “Nice to meet you,” she said, her tone nowhere near friendly. “I’m Mabel Gleeful.”

“…Nice to meet you, too. I’m Dipper Pines,” he replied quietly, certain she wasn’t listening.

“Mason?” Stanford prompted.

Dipper’s doppelganger didn’t look up from his plate, already having begun eating. “We’ve been introduced already.”

“Do it anyways.”

He didn’t have the same sarcastic tone as his sister, but set down his fork, glowered up at Dipper, and said in the most bored tone, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dipper Pines. I’m Mason Gleeful, the better-dressed version of you.”

Stanford didn’t look pleased, but put on a smile when he looked back over at Dipper, and said, “Feel free to start eating. Will made grilled salmon with a side of Caesar salad. Will!” he called, and two doors to Stanford’s left were pushed open. Will entered, trotting over to Stanford’s side. “Drinks, please. The usual for me.”

“Water,” Mabel ordered.

“Same as Great Uncle Stanford,” Mason said.

A moment of awkward silence passed before Dipper realized that Will was waiting for him to ask for a drink. “Oh! Uh... I’m not picky… Do you have Coke?”

“Yes, sir.” Will bowed and reentered the doors that presumably led to the kitchen, returning with a tray of glasses of everyone’s drinks. It was just like being served in a restaurant, Dipper thought as his Coke was placed in front of him. Did the Gleefuls have dinner like this every evening?

As he was walking behind Mabel, her arm suddenly shot out and grabbed the demon’s sleeve, and Dipper immediately looked up at the sudden movement. She said in a soft yet icy tone, “Did I ask for sparkling water, Will?”

“.... No, Madam, I assumed-“

“If I didn’t ask for sparkling water-“ She stood suddenly, keeping a firm grip on Will’s sleeve. “-Why the fuck did you give me sparkling water?” She picked up the glass and suddenly dumped its contents onto Will’s head, soaking his hair and suit. As water dripped down his face and the tips of his hair, looking like a half-drowned kitten, she raised her voice to shout, “You useless piece of shit! How dare you make assumptions-“

“Hey!” Dipper shouted, too, standing, utterly horrified by what she was doing. To actually witness that poor thing being abused made him furious beyond belief. “What are you doing? He just made a mistake! You don’t need to pour water over him!” He pushed out his chair and hurried over to Will, pulling his sleeve out of Mabel’s hand and pushing Will gently away from her. “Are you okay? Let’s find you a towel or something.”

Will appeared to be puzzled. “…I’m fine, sir. It’s okay. Please sit down and enjoy your meal.”

“Yeah,” Mabel snapped. “Sit down and stay out of this.”

It was Dipper’s turn to glare at her. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What do you mean?” she retorted.

“You poured water on him!”

“I’m punishing him!”

“Why would you punish him!” Dipper clenched his hands into fists. “He made a tiny mistake!”

“If I don’t punish him, he won’t learn!”

“Mabel. Dipper,” Stanford spoke, his voice cool and calm, as usual. “Both of you, please, sit down. Will, get a towel and dry off, and get a new glass of water for Mabel.”

Dipper opened his mouth to object, but… He was a guest here. He should listen to Stanford, right? He made his way back to his seat, glancing at Mabel. She glared back, clearly not feeling guilty for how she treated Will. What bothered Dipper the most, though, was how Stanford and Mason reacted. Mason probably hadn’t looked up once during the entire incident, occupying himself by eating delicate forkfuls of the salad, and Stanford made no effort to correct Mabel’s over-the-top, cruel reaction to receiving the wrong drink. He’d known from the start that there was something odd about this family, but things just kept getting odder. He reluctantly ate his dinner in silence. No one made an effort to create conversation, which was strange – Dipper was used to lively conversation and sometimes playfully flicking bits of food at his sister. Childish, sure, but it was fun. The Gleeful twins had no hint of playfulness or childishness about them.

After some peach cobbler for dessert, Stanford stood and said, “Thank you for coming to dinner with us, Dipper. Will’s cooking is wonderful, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “So… Will cooks everything? And serves it? How many other staff do you have here?”

“It’s just Will.”

Dipper wasn’t sure what he expected. Of course, it was strange to have an entire fucking mansion and only one servant, but after what he’d learned about the way Will was treated by the Gleeful family… It wasn’t really a surprise that they’d make him oversee the chores of the entire place. “Just Will, huh?” he asked, keeping his voice as casual as possible. “How does he do all the work in the mansion by himself?”

“He has his demonic magic to help him,” Stanford told him. “He manages.”

When Stanford stood up, Dipper stood too, and started walking alongside him. He didn’t want to be alone with the Gleeful twins. “He’s not overworked or anything? He looks tired. He’s got dark circles under his eyes.”

“He’s perfectly fine,” Stanford replied with that same warm smile. “You don’t need to worry about him.”

“He’s not ‘fine’ when he gets abused by your niece,” Dipper said, his voice quieter. Stanford glanced at him.

“She’s only punishing him.”

Dipper wouldn’t stand for this. “That shouldn’t be an excuse. She’s straight up abusing him.”

“When you’re a guest in someone’s home, do you often criticize them?”

The boy didn’t respond for a moment. Fuck, now Stanford was starting to dislike him. “…Look, I’m just saying, you guys should be a little nicer to-“

“Sir?” Will came up behind them, and if not for his voice alerting them, Dipper wouldn’t have heard his quiet footsteps. He stopped and turned. Will’s clothes were still a bit damp, but he’d dried off his hair and face, at least. “Sir, would you like a bath now?”

“Oh, uh… Sure. You’ll have to show me where my room is, though,” Dipper said with a chuckle, leaving Stanford’s side to follow Will. “I’d get lost if I tried to find it on my own.”

* * *

Being in the bath of the Gleeful mansion’s guest room was possibly the most comfortable thing Dipper had experienced in his entire life. He relaxed in the tub, gazing at the candles that sat on the rim. Will had lit them for him, and they released a pleasant, flowery aroma. The lights were dim, the room was filling with steam… Dipper sighed and sank deeper into the water, closing his eyes. Imagine being Mason Gleeful… Living like this every day would be pretty fun. He sat up, water splashing against the sides of the tub when there was a knock at the door. “Yeah?” he called out.

Will slowly pushed open the door, covering his eye to allow Dipper a bit of privacy. He placed a fluffy white towel on the metal rod by the tub. “How is it, sir? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Absolutely,” Dipper sighed. “Oh, and it’s okay, you don’t have to… I mean, you can look, that’s okay.”

Will relaxed a bit and lowered his hand. “Do you need anything? Extra towels, more candles…?”

“No, no… This is perfect.” When Will turned to leave, Dipper said quickly, “Wait… Do you have a second to talk?”

“…I think so, sir.” He came up to the side of the tub and knelt, gazing into Dipper’s eyes.

Placing his arm on the side of the tub, Dipper asked softly, “What’s the deal with how you’re treated around here? Mabel Gleeful was being such a jerk to you earlier, and Stanford didn’t say anything about it – he just let her do it. And, whenever I bring that kind of thing up around him, he ignores the question.”

Will nodded, glancing at the door nervously. “…Master Stanford doesn’t want to talk about it with guests.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The demon shifted his weight uncomfortably. “…I can talk about it if you’d like me to,” he said softly, and Dipper leaned in closer to hear the secrets of the Gleeful household. “What do you want to know?”

Dipper gazed into Will’s single blue eye and said, “I want to know what the hell is going on here. Why do they treat you like garbage?”

“I… It’s not a big deal, sir,” Will replied. “Don’t worry about-“

“Will, it’s okay. You can talk about it with me.”

Will looked reluctant, but began to answer Dipper’s question, turning his gaze to the floor. “When the twins were twelve, I made a deal with them. I get their souls, and they get my magic. They made me their servant. And they took me back here… And that was when I learned they were related to Master Stanford.”

“So… You knew Stanford Gleeful before?” Dipper guessed. “Before the deal with the twins?”

“I did… So the twins told me to give Stanford some magic, too. I didn’t know how to say no. Now, Master, Madam, and Master Stanford all have a bit of my power. The twins use it to do magic tricks and read minds. Master Stanford uses it to punish me and control me.”

“Stanford punishes you too, then?”

Will glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “…Of course. He gives the worst punishments of all. Did he tell you otherwise?”

“Well, he kept saying the twins did it, but never mentioned…”

“Blame it all on the kids,” Will huffed, for once looking angry with red cheeks and furrowed brows. “It’s not like _he_ tells them to be cruel to me.”

“Christ, that’s awful… Can’t say I’m surprised, though.”

Will took a deep breath and added softly, “Master Stanford is awful. I despise him.”

“You said you knew him before your deal with the twins,” Dipper said, sitting up more and gazing at Will. “What happened between you and him? Was it anything like what happened with Bill and my Grunkle Ford?”

He shrugged slightly and stood, starting for the door. “That’s a story for another time, sir,” he murmured. “Call me if you need anything before you go to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, it's been a while! Hope ya'll are still interested in this! I've just finished up with final exams for the semester. I also re-read the first couple chapters and regret posting them lol, all of a sudden the writing looks ugly to me. But I'm not going to go back and change much - I want to see how my writing evolves as the story continues. I'm still working on keeping characterization consistent, and juggling ideas about different relationships that might affect the tags on the story. Anyway, please enjoy!


	6. Gleeful

Dipper emerged from the bathroom wearing a comfortable white robe and rubbing his hair dry with a towel. He collapsed on the bed as soon as he entered the room, and noticed that his clothes had been neatly folded into perfect squares at the end of the bed. Beside his clothes, there was a set of black silk pajamas. Eagerly, he changed out of the robe and put on the pajamas and was ready to make himself comfortable in bed… Before he thought of Will again. He couldn’t go to bed without checking on the poor demon one last time, so he got up and crept out of the room, peering around the hall. He wasn’t in sight. He called his name softly, and when he didn’t answer, ventured further out to find him.

From elsewhere in the mansion, he could hear faint sounds – voices, that as he went down the hall, became clearer and became identifiable as Mason and Mabel Gleeful. He descended the staircase quietly and followed the voices down a hallway on the first floor. However, just when it felt like he was getting close, the voices abruptly stopped.

Dipper stopped too, listening closely for a moment. Well, he thought as he turned around to go back, it wasn’t that big of a deal. He had no real reason to creep around the Gleeful house and eavesdrop on the twins if he was only looking for-

“What are you doing?”

The boy yelped and raised his hands as he found himself face-to-face with his doppelganger. It was like catching his reflection in a mirror, only his reflection wore dressy clothes, had his hair slicked back, and scowled back at him. “I said, what are you doing?” Mason repeated, taking a step towards Dipper. “I thought you were in the guest room.”

“I…” Dipper swallowed and lowered his hands, straightening his posture to face Mason. “I was. I was looking for Will.”

Mason retained his scowl, glaring at Dipper. His eyes were creepy, Dipper had to admit, with dark circles around them that made their unnaturally bright blue irises appear to glow. He crossed his arms and tilted his chin up. “Why do you want him?”

Dipper, refusing to show that he was intimidated (after all, this was just a creepier version of himself, right?), also crossed his arms. “I wanted to check on him,” he said firmly. “I know that you guys mistreat him.”

Finally, Mason’s expression shifted, his displeased scowl turning into a smug smirk. “Really?” he asked, his eyes drifting to the hallway behind Dipper as a door opened and closed, and the clicking of high heels echoed, growing louder as Mabel walked up behind Dipper. “Dear sister, our guest wants to ‘check on’ Will,” Mason told her as she put her arm around Dipper’s shoulders. Trying not to be rude, he gently pushed her back, but she leaned on him with a mischievous smile. Mason continued, “He says that we ‘mistreat him.’ Do we mistreat our servant?”

“W-well, I didn’t mean…”

Mabel pulled away from Dipper and walked up to her real brother, standing beside him with one hand on her hip. “Mistreat Will? Our darling little demon? Why, we’d never!” she giggled, keeping her eerie gazed fixated on Dipper. “You think we mistreat him? Is this about what happened at dinner? Well, I’m sorry that punishing that creature for not doing his job doesn’t line up perfectly straight with your pathetic morals, Dipper Pines, but that’s how things work around here.”

Dipper glanced back. What room had Mabel come out of? What was she doing at this time of night…? He turned back to the twins and put on his best intimidating look. “I really don’t think that’s okay. You know, he’s got those bruises, he’s always shaking… It’s not right!”

“Do you hear that, brother dear?” cooed the girl, latching onto Mason’s arm and hugging it. “It’s not _right_. Sounds like it’s time to release Will from our contract and give him our souls for free, because apparently, some cheeky little shit from another dimension thinks that what we do isn’t right! Pathetic, isn’t it, brother?”

“Absolutely,” Mason agreed with a nod. “Say, Mabel, since Will is busy with chores tonight, he won’t be able to help us with our practice show tonight, and you need a target for knife-throwing, don’t you?”

Mabel perked up. “You think this boy should be our assistant for the evening?”

Dipper chuckled and stepped back, raising his hands. “Hey… What? Assistant? Knife-throwing? I’m not sure I consent to this…”

“Nonsense,” Mabel hushed him, and released Mason’s arm to approach Dipper. Although he took a step back, she reached out and grabbed his hand, a bright grin plastered on her face. Up close, she didn’t look like his sister at all, with heavy makeup and eyes just like her brother’s. “You don’t need to worry about a thing. I throw the knives a safe distance from your body, and I only miss… How often do I miss, Mason?”

Her brother hummed as he started walking back down toward the door that Mabel had emerged from. “According to the statistics… Two out of every ten throws. You have an eighty percent accuracy rate.”

Mabel laughed, and pulled Dipper along as she followed Mason. “Better than last year. I think I only had a sixty percent accuracy rate. What an improvement! Will’s probably happy about that.”

Dipper protested weakly as he was pulled along, trying to make up excuses about wearing only pajamas and he should change into his other clothes, about how he should be looking for Will, and boy, it was late, wasn’t it, shouldn’t he be getting to sleep soon? Unfortunately, Mabel laughed at everything he said and dragged him into the room.

At first glance, the room was nothing spectacular. It looked like a workshop, with wooden benches covered in tools and blueprints lying about. Dipper then noticed the strange objects around the perimeter of the room – something that looked like a sarcophagus, but apparently handmade out of wood; a box that was about the size of a small closet; a large wooden circle painted like a target in bright red and white paint. Before he had time to get a good look at the rest of the room, Mabel pulled Dipper over to the target, turning him so that his back was pressed against it. Then, she pushed his wrists against it, strapping them down with metal shackles.

He uttered a weak laugh as she restrained his other wrist. “So, what’s this for? You’re not actually going to use me as a target, right? There’s a gimmick to it? The knives, they’re not real…?”

Mabel stepped back and turned to pick up a few daggers from the table, fitting three in her hand. They were small, short, and had blue handles with turquoise details that swirled over them. The gleam of the silver, sharp blades were what caught Dipper’s eye, though, and made his stomach twist into a knot. “You don’t think they’re real?” the girl asked, examining the knives, turning them over, holding them up to the light. “Brother dear, they’re real, aren’t they?”

“I believe they are,” he agreed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “If the blood on the target is any indication of what they can do.”

With wide, panicked eyes, Dipper turned and noticed a splash of dark red on the scarlet paint of the target’s circles. “Jesus, that’s…”

“Blood. And it _is_ real,” Mabel said, her gaze sweeping up and down Dipper’s body, determining where she ought to aim her knives.

“…Whose?” Dipper managed to utter, his voice cracking.

He could hear a snort from Mason (was it in amusement or contempt?) and a soft laugh from Mabel. The girl walked up to him, holding two daggers in her left hand. With the dagger in her right hand, she lifted Dipper’s chin up, teasing him with the point of the blade. Dipper could see the sadistic glee in her eyes as he squirmed and sweated with the knife so close to his throat, millimeters away from cutting him open. “So, you’re dressed like a bum, your hair’s a mess, _and_ you’re stupid? I’d hate to see what the other people in your dimension are like.”

“It’s Will’s blood,” Mason said curtly in response to Dipper's question, running his fingers over his own hair to ensure that not a single strand was out of place. “Before you start yelling at us again, remember that Will is a demon. He can regenerate that blood. It only becomes a real problem if he can’t heal himself and loses his physical form until he regains the energy to recreate it.”

Once Mabel pulled the knife away and stepped back again, Dipper sputtered, “That’s still- that’s still not okay! You need to be nicer to Will!”

“Will’s our servant,” Mason said with an eye roll. He pushed himself off the wall to stand beside his sister, arms still crossed.

“He doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment!” Dipper protested, starting to struggle against his bonds again.

“Shut up,” Mason snapped, bristling. “You don’t know what he deserves. You don’t know the first thing about that demon, do you?”

While eyeing the knives in Mabel’s hands, Dipper replied, “He’s really sweet! He’s been so nice to me, I hate to see him abused by you two sadistic jerks!”

Mabel laughed again while Mason stepped forward, his fists clenched at his side. “He’s sweet because of the way we treat him. If not for us, he could destroy our world.” Much to Dipper’s amazement, his doppelganger’s birthmark began to pulse with light, glowing bright blue as if they were the stars themselves. “Will is a malicious demon, and you’re lucky we treat him the way we do,” he continued. “If we didn’t keep his powers in check, or train him to be docile, he would kill you the instant he saw you.”

Dipper’s struggles lessened as Mason’s words sank in. That couldn’t be true. Mason was just messing with him, right? “Will’s not like that,” he said meekly. Mason did have a point – he had no idea of Will’s history. But that timid, blushing, adorable servant couldn’t be as evil as Bill, like Mason was making it sound. So, despite not knowing much about Will, he felt compelled to defend the pitiful thing. “He’s really nice! I can’t imagine him hurting anyone!”

Mason glanced back, exchanging a look with his sister. When he turned back to Dipper, he was smiling. “Great Uncle Stanford wrote all about him in his journal, and he’s known Will longer than any of us. So trust me, don’t fall for Will’s puppy-dog eyes and sad stories about being hurt by his masters – who he agreed to serve – because he’s a violent, homicidal monster at heart.”

* * *

Two twins stood in a clearing in the forest, the girl standing idly to the side, examining her manicure, while the boy lit candles in a circle around a photo of two other children. He then opened his book, a red journal with a golden, six-fingered hand on the cover with the number two drawn in the center, and softly began to recite the Latin words of a summoning spell.

“Brother, this is stupid,” Mabel declared, crossing her arms and glaring at Mason. “Let’s just go take care of Pacifica and Gideon ourselves-“

She broke off as Mason suddenly fell to his knees, chanting in a language she couldn’t identify. It was as if the words were being pulled from his throat, like he had become possessed. Worried, she took a few steps toward him, gasping softly when she saw his eyes glowing blue.

Then, everything around the twins seemed to slow down. Mabel, now standing beside her brother, stared around at the forest in wonder as silence enveloped it, muting the soft sounds of bird chirps and wind rustling – in fact, not only was the place dead quiet, it had become still. Clouds didn’t drift across the sky, branches didn’t sway, bushes didn’t rustle… As if they were suddenly trapped in an unmoving painting.

Mason blinked a few times, his eyes clearing. He looked up to say something to Mabel, then something else caught his eye. He stood suddenly, taking a step back with his gaze fixed on the sky. Mabel looked too. Before them had appeared a triangle that had seemingly ripped a hole in the sky itself. When an eye popped open in the center of it, the twins grabbed each other’s hands, bracing themselves for what would come next.

“Oh, Gravity Falls, it is good to be back!”

Mabel and Mason stared up as a blue triangle with arms, legs, one large eye, and a black top hat floated down from the sky, looking them over. “You two summoned me?” the triangle asked, blinking a couple of times.

Mason released his sister’s hand and stepped in front of her, masking his fear with a steady voice and level gaze. “I summoned you, demon. I read about you in the journals, and I think you can be of some use to us.”

“Really! That sounds fun,” the triangle replied cheerfully. “Helping a couple of pre-teens, huh? What do you kids want?”

“We want you to help us eradicate Pacifica Southeast and Gideon Pines,” Mason replied, pointing to the photograph on the ground.

“…Eradicate?” The demon blinked again. Oh, dear. It looks like these kids weren’t as adorable and harmless as he anticipated. “I don’t know if I can kill them, but I can certainly help you with other things. How about we play some pranks on them?”

The twins looked unimpressed. The girl had stepped out from behind her brother and asked, “Mason, I thought we were summoning a demon. What is this thing? It’s a harmless triangle.”

The demon in front of them bowed slightly. “I’m Will Cipher, and I assure you, I’m not harmless. But why resort to hurting people when we could just have fun with them?” he inquired.

“You’re right, Mabel,” Mason muttered, shutting the journal hard enough to make Will flinch slightly. “This was a waste of time if he won’t even help us.”

Will’s eye widened slightly. How dare they imply he was useless to them! Blue flames erupted from his hands and swirled up his arms, and soon his entire form was engulfed in it. The twins’ eyes lit up. Now they were getting somewhere. “I promise, this isn’t a waste of time,” he growled. “I’ll help you… But for a price.”

“What do you want?” Mabel asked, raising an eyebrow. “We have money.”

“I don’t want money. I want something more valuable…” Will floated closer to them, surprised that they seemed to be undaunted by him as he hovered just a foot away from them, still burning with magical blue flame. “I want something that you won’t easily give up. I want your souls.”

Again, the twins weren’t as impressed as Will hoped. They exchanged a quick glance. “Our souls?” Mason repeated. “Why do you want our souls?”

Will reached out with one small, black hand, holding it out and running his fingers over Mason’s cheek. His skin was surprisingly soft. When Mason scowled at him, he pulled his hand back and cleared his throat. “Souls are very valuable to demons. Human souls, in particular. You only get one soul, after all, and once it belongs to someone else, you can’t go on to an afterlife.”

Mason contemplated it for a moment, then said, “If souls are as valuable as you say, we should be getting more out of this deal, right?”

“…Well…” Perhaps Will had said too much.

“Right. So, let’s come up with a deal. You’ll help us get rid of those pesky kids, and… Something else.” He glanced at his sister again, then looked back to Will. “You can do whatever else we ask of you.”

Will crossed his short arms across his body. “You want me to be your servant, basically?”

“Basically.”

He huffed softly. The servant of two twelve-year-old children. This would be exciting. “I suppose I can. For how long should I serve you?”

“As long as we want,” Mabel replied before Mason could speak. When Will looked hesitant, she added, “That is, if you still want our souls.”

Will turned away for a second to think about the offer. At most, he’d have to be their servant for sixty, seventy, eighty years, until they passed away… Or, until they decided they didn’t need him anymore. And to get two precious human souls out of this? He turned back to the twins. “Here’s the deal. Until it’s broken, I will take your souls once your human bodies die. Since I play fair, I won’t be allowed to kill you to get your souls. And, in exchange, I’ll be your servant and do everything in my power to assist you two.” Then, he held out his hand, new fire blazing in his palm. “One of you must shake on it. Do we have a deal?”

Mason stuck out his hand without hesitation. “Deal,” he agreed as his own hand was devoured by blue flame.

Of course, it was a mistake. Will knew, as he shook Mason’s hand, that something wasn’t quite right about the bright blue stares of the twins. Perhaps it was the way that Mason showed little emotion, or how Mabel seemed a little too excited to have him a servant, or… Maybe it was the familiarity of the icy depths of their eyes, their pale skin, and their deceptively pretty clothes – the same characteristics of an individual he’d encountered several years ago in this very town.

He shook it off, figuring it was a strange coincidence until he learned that their last name was Gleeful.

Then, Mason confided with him about their plans to re-open a broken portal in their basement to bring their great-uncle Stanford back into this dimension. Will’s blood ran cold, and he pleaded with them not to do it.

The twins did it anyways. They always did what they wanted, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience with my slow updates! Here's a flashback with the terms and conditions of the deal. Two human souls is pretty neat, but Will's thinking it's not really worth it anymore after what the twins and Stanford Gleeful put him through. At least he's got Dipper to stand up for him, right?... Assuming he survives what the twins are putting him through.


	7. Stanley

Restrained against the blood-stained target, Dipper struggled fiercely as Mabel took aim with her daggers. “Stop, please!” he begged, pulling at the straps that held his wrists down. “I promise I’ll be quiet about Will! I’ll go straight back to the guest room after this!”

“Would you be quiet!” Mabel snapped, holding up one of her knives, determining where she should attempt to throw it. Mason had returned to his place against the wall, observing quietly with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not going to hit you! Do you think I’m that bad of a knife-thrower?”

When she hurled the first knife, Dipper couldn’t help but yelp and squeeze his eyes shut. He heard the knife make impact and bite into the wood, and once he was certain that he hadn’t been injured, slowly allowed himself to open his eyes again. The knife stuck out from under his underarm, nestled in the wood, several inches from his body. He sighed with relief and glanced back up at Mabel, who wore a pleased grin. “Look! See, I’m good at this! I’ve been practicing! Like brother said, I have an eighty percent accuracy rate!” She quickly glanced at her brother, who hummed softly in acknowledgement, and when her gaze returned to Dipper, she was readying a second knife.

This time, Dipper didn’t close his eyes, but flinched as she threw the knife. Like the first one, this one was just inches from his body, sticking out beside his waist. He sighed with relief and pulled the restraints. “Okay, you’ve practiced enough, right? Can we be done now?”

Mabel exchanged a look with her brother. “I don’t know,” she hummed. “Brother dear, hitting the target around him is easy… I want to try something else.”

Mason strolled up to Mabel, one hand on his hip and the other around her shoulders. Leaning in close enough to her to make Dipper feel vaguely uncomfortable, he said, “What do you want to try, darling sister of mine?”

“What if I aim for his forehead? I’ll bet you twenty bucks I can stick the knife right in the Big Dipper.”

Immediately, Dipper went from slightly disturbed by the twins’ closeness to one another to horrified. “What? Are you fucking insane?” he demanded, squirming again. Maybe he could rip the straps right off of the target, jump down, and run out of the room before they murdered him-

“I’ll take the bet,” Mason agreed. He approached Dipper and, despite the boy’s feeble thrashing, held back his hair. “How’s this, sister?”

“Perfect.”

Dipper continued to fight, despite knowing the ineffectiveness of his actions. Even if he could break the leather bonds, Mason was standing right next to him: that creepy kid would just grab him and hold him in place while Mabel – or rather, the girl who looked like Mabel – threw a knife into his forehead. This was a fucking predicament. No matter what he did to stop them, they were literally going to murder him-

Nothing could describe well enough the incredible wave of relief that washed over Dipper when heavy footsteps came down the hall and Stanford entered the room. “Mabel. Mason,” he said coolly, as if unsurprised by what they were about to do to Dipper. “Put the props away.”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “But Great Uncle Stanford…!”

“And get Dipper down from there. It’s late, and I’m sure he’d like to get to bed.”

As he requested, Dipper was unstrapped from the target, and as soon as he could, he hurried to Stanford’s side to seek shelter from the twins. Stanford put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder, guiding the boy into the hallway.

“Did you see what they were doing?” Dipper demanded in a shrill whisper as Stanford led him away from the room. “They were going to kill me!”

The older man, his weathered face neutral, just hummed. “Those twins can certainly be a handful sometimes.”

“They were going to kill me,” Dipper repeated in a firm voice.

“Yes, they probably were.”

Dipper halted and crossed his arms, glaring at Stanford. The older man turned, one silver eyebrow raised curiously. “Doesn’t that bother you? If you hadn’t come into the room when you did – which I’m thankful for, by the way – Mabel would have thrown a knife at my head and killed me!”

“Perhaps.”

“Is that normal?” Dipper demanded, bristling, unable to contain bitter rage at this man’s indifference to what he’d just endured. “Are you people so fucked up that it’s totally normal for those kids to murder people?”

He’d struck a nerve. Stanford took a threatening step towards Dipper, who in turn stepped back, shrinking away from the older man. He’d taken it too far, he thought, until Stanford, with a scowl on his thin lips and his brows furrowed, said coldly, “I think it’s time you went back to your room. I’ll tell the twins not to bother you anymore.”

With great reluctance, Dipper returned to the guest room, finding it without too much difficulty. He didn’t expect to sleep much that night. Despite double-checking that his door was locked to keep those Gleeful twins from murdering him in his sleep, his paranoia kept him staring at the ceiling for a long time before he finally managed to close his eyes and grant his body a couple hours of rest. Although the demon servant to the Gleeful family was probably doing okay (he’d been the servant here for years, after all), Dipper couldn’t help but feel worried about that poor thing. What was more unbelievable than the awful abuse that Will was forced to undergo was the notion that the ones who inflicted it on him were alternate versions of Dipper and his sister. Mabel Pines would never stand for such inhumane treatment of Will, nor an attempted murder during knife-throwing practice. Although, if Dipper believed Mason, Will’s alleged malicious nature excused the twins’ abuse of him. Of course, that couldn’t be true. Will was too sweet and caring to be capable of evil.

Dipper woke up with faint dawn light peering through the curtains, groaning when he noticed the clock. Six-thirty. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep with paranoia swirling in his mind, so he rolled out of bed with a heavy sigh and changed back into his clothes from the previous day. While washing his face in the bathroom, he glanced over his attire. It wasn’t that awful an outfit, was it? Those twins were probably just being nasty to provoke him when they mocked it earlier. “Better-dressed version of me, my ass,” he muttered into the baby-blue towel he used to dry his face.

With unease sitting on his shoulders, he exited his room, finding himself in the hallway, lit by the sun that was gently lifting itself into the sky. He glanced down either end of the hall, both looking for Will and making sure that the twins weren’t there. They weren’t, so Dipper started down the stairs. As he descended, he started to hear quiet noises – someone nearby, on the first floor.

Thankfully, this time, the noise wasn’t coming from the Gleeful twins. Will was kneeling on hardwood floor with a bucket of water beside him, quietly cleaning with a rag. Dipper smiled a bit as he neared him. He couldn’t help but think that he resembled a sort of blue-haired Cinderella like that.

When Will noticed his presence, he stood suddenly with a cheerful grin and a slight bow. Seeing his face lit up like that was utterly magical – he seemed so happy, despite a faint yellow bruise on his cheek. “You’re awake early, sir! I’m sorry, I don’t have breakfast prepared yet – I don’t serve it until eight, but I can offer you coffee, or a snack, if you’d like!”

“Oh, no thanks,” replied Dipper, looking down to make sure that he wasn’t stepping on the floor where it was freshly cleaned as he approached Will. “No offense, but I’m thinking about contacting Bill and leaving soon. I don’t feel super safe around… You know. My alternate self.”

To his relief, the demon didn’t take it personally, just asking, “Do you want to go right now? I can take you home.”

“That- that’s really nice of you to offer.” All of a sudden, Dipper was feeling a bit flustered. “You don’t have to, if you’re busy, but… I wouldn’t mind it if you took me back. The less I have to interact with Bill, the better, right?”

Will laughed softly in agreement. With a quick wave of his hand, a portal opened before them. “I need to return in time to cook breakfast, but that should be enough time to escort you back,” he told Dipper, and stepped through the portal.

The pair entered Dipper’s home dimension, and the boy breathed a soft sigh as he stood in the dew-soaked grass in front of the Mystery Shack. Will was gazing at the house that was bathed in a soft yellow glow, seemingly lost in thought for a moment until he whispered, “Ah… I forgot. Your family doesn’t live in a large house. You live here…?”

“Stan and Ford do, but I’m just Ford’s apprentice for the summer,” Dipper explained. “My sister and I live in California. Hey, want to come inside for a moment?” When the demon hesitated, Dipper assured him, “You still have time before you have to go home, right? It’ll be okay.”

“I’m sure it will,” Will agreed softly, his hands wringing together as he followed Dipper up to the house. “It’s just… Your Stanford lives here? Is he inside the house right now?”

Dipper turned to face him. Poor thing was practically shaking. Was he so terrified of Stanford Gleeful that he didn’t even want to meet Ford? Just how much had they abused him? “Will,” he said, and reached out to take his hand. “It’s okay. My great-uncle is super nice. He’s, you know, a little weird, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone, especially not you. No one in my family would.”

He’d been half-expecting Will to refuse his hand and indignantly say that he wasn’t scared, but he took it and squeezed it, relishing the warmth of Dipper’s palm. His worried blue eye locked with Dipper’s own deep brown ones. How much he resembled Bill yet acted nothing like that irritating yellow prick baffled Dipper still. “I don’t know,” he murmured, but followed him the rest of the way to the shack, allowing Dipper to take him inside. Since it was still early in the morning, Dipper feared the back door was locked, but much to his relief, neither Stan nor Ford bothered. Break-ins and theft in the middle of the forest in Gravity Falls weren’t a huge issue.

When Dipper turned to Will to apologize for the messy state of the shack, he found that he was wide-eyed and staring at the shack’s rather unimpressive interior, taking in the crooked picture frames, old-fashioned wallpaper, uneven wooden stairs. Dipper sighed softly. He was probably shocked by the unkempt, tiny house, and any second now, he’d say something nasty about it in the same manner that the Gleeful twins mocked his clothes-

“What an adorable place,” Will whispered, taking a few more steps further into the house on his own and releasing Dipper’s hand. “Oh, I wish I lived here. Look at that, on the wall…” He hurried over to a photo of Dipper, Mabel, Stan, and Ford, with Waddles lifted up on his hind legs by Mabel. It had been taken on the Pines twins’ thirteenth birthday. “That’s such a cute picture! Everyone looks so happy in it! Even…” Will raised his hand, his finger pressing the glass over Ford’s face, then he interrupted himself to reiterate, “That’s lovely. And I adore this house. It looks so… lived-in.”

The boy chuckled. “Probably because Grunkle Stan keeps making excuses not to clean up around here, and Ford’s always doing something ‘important’ in the basement.”

After Dipper spoke, Will suddenly went ghost-white. “The basement?” he echoed, wringing his hands again.

“Yeah, why?”

Will shook his head as if to dismiss what he’d just said, but after a few seconds, quietly asked, “What does he do in the basement?”

“Uh…” As Dipper tried to think of a couple examples of his eccentric great-uncle’s work, it crossed his mind that Stanford Gleeful in the other dimension must have a basement too, and Will was scared to death of it. But Will had no reason to fear Ford Pines. “He used to have a big portal down there, but it’s since been dismantled. I don’t know if you had a similar thing in your dimension,” he began. “He does a lot of research on the paranormal, he tries to make weird stuff… Right now, I’m helping him work on a portal gun that’ll allow him to travel between dimensions, kinda like how you and Bill do, without ripping holes in them… That kind of thing.”

Will didn’t relax even after hearing his response. “What’s Stanford Pines like?”

“What’s he like?” Dipper paused again. “He’s weird. He’s got a lot of energy for an old man. He’s one of the most intelligent people I know, but sometimes, he forgets about safety. Once, he showed me his infinity-sided die, and things got out of hand. Oh, and he’s addicted to coffee and always wears turtleneck sweaters. Do you want to meet him when he wakes up? He’d probably love to chat with you, after dealing with Bill’s shenanigans for as long as he has…”

It was no surprise to him that Will declined. “I should go home, in case Master Stanford wakes up early,” he said apologetically, words spilling quickly from his mouth. “B-but thank you for letting me see your house.” He glanced down, bit his lip, then murmured, “And… I don’t know if this is appropriate for me to say, but I was wondering if… I could come here again soon? Once I have spare time, that is. Do you mind…?”

“Of course not,” Dipper replied with a comforting smile. “You’re a real pleasure to be around! Feel free to stop by anytime!”

Will’s bright smile in response filled Dipper’s stomach with butterflies, and after Will disappeared into a portal, he gazed at the spot where he once stood for a long while before heading into the kitchen for breakfast.

* * *

No turning back now, Stanley Gleeful thought as the massive portal before him hummed and bathed him in its bright blue glow. As he gazed into its depths, into the abyss that allegedly swallowed his brother Stanford all those years ago, he recalled what his brother was really like. Growing up with him was miserable, he had to admit. Rather than spend time with Stanley, he’d focused on studying strange things like magic. Stanley never thought it was real, until one day, when Stanford was being bullied at school for his deformity, the kids’ hair caught fire, and Stanford showed no empathy, no emotion at all. When asked about it later, he simply said in a low voice, “He should have known what he was messing with.” Stanford was manipulative, too. He somehow always got what he wanted from their parents. Always the center of attention, too, forcing his less intelligent and talented, but kindhearted, brother into the shadows while he hogged the spotlight.

After Stanford moved to Gravity Falls (the death of their parents leaving him with a lot of inheritance money that he used to build the mansion), Stanley didn’t see him for ten years. Then, he received a postcard, instructing him to come see what Stanford had done. He rolled his eyes at first, knowing that Stanford was just looking for someone to brag to about his latest achievement, but went anyways. He missed his brother. However, upon arrival, he found an empty house and a journal on the desk in his study. A small piece of paper was tucked into the book, and he pulled it out to read the letter written in neat cursive.

_He has left this dimension. I shut down the portal. Do not, under any circumstances, bring Stanford Gleeful back into this world._

Nostalgia for the few pleasant moments of their childhood that Stanley and Stanford shared, as well as a desperation to reconnect with his brother, compelled Stanley to reopen the portal in the basement, despite the mysterious and anonymous warning to keep it closed. When he activated it, he could already sense regret creeping into his mind for dedicating half of his life to returning his brother into this dimension. What good would come of this?

He hadn’t expected the twins to come downstairs, though.

Mabel and Mason Gleeful were the strangest children he’d ever met, and although he never said it out loud, having them around was like babysitting the twins from The Shining. Oftentimes, he let them do whatever they wanted since their cold stares when he said ‘no’ creeped him out. He was convinced that they would try to do something crazy like burn the house down if he was too strict with them.

He'd anticipated either an endless stream of questions about what was happening, and worried that they might try to stop him, but instead, those weird kids just stood and stared silently at the portal, its light illuminating those piercing blue eyes that ran in the family.

They didn’t recognize the man clad in a tattered black coat who stepped through the portal, but when he pulled off his goggles and scarf, their eyes widened. Was that the first time Stanley had seen them with a genuine expression of shock?

Stanford shook the twins’ hands, both of the kids donning phony smiles while introducing themselves. He seemed particularly interested in Mabel, chatting with her for quite a while. Stanley received hardly any acknowledgement. There was no “thank you” for opening the portal. Stanford only focused on talking with the twins, who seemed eager to learn more about him and the journals he’d left behind.

Stanley hoped for a warm reunion, not expecting Stanford to kick him out of the mansion, essentially disown him, and replace him as the patriarch of the household, forcing his twin to pack his belongings and move away. He did his best to stay optimistic. At least the twins seemed to like Stanford more than him, despite Stanford’s stricter, colder demeanor… And at least Stanley was no longer in charge of managing the twins’ business, the Tent of Telepathy, which had been a major chore these past few summers. Stanley ended up moving out of the state to sell used cars. It wasn’t the best business for an honest man like him – he often let slip the flaws of the cars, accidentally driving people away, but he earned enough for rent, and that was good enough for him.

The worst part of it all, though, was that Stanford cut off all communication between him and the twins. Stanford wouldn’t give him their cell phone numbers, so he couldn’t call them, and once, Stanford called him to demand that Stanley stop trying to write letters to them, informing him that he shredded all of them. Sure, he’d never been that close to Mason and Mabel, but he still loved them. They were his family, after all, and he craved some sort of positive relationship with his kin. He never gave up, despite Stanford’s efforts to stop him, hoping one day that his niece and nephew would respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I have a new way of motivating myself to write, so hopefully updates will be more frequent. Will and Dipper are super gay for each other, but everyone is far, FAR from having a happy ending. I have so much planned for this fic. Also, I don't proofread so forgive any mistakes!! ALSO, thank you all so much for your comments and kudos, they keep this fic alive!


	8. Stories

Will returned home in a slight daze, a bit put-off by the immense size of the mansion after being in the Pines’ home. Why did a family of three need this kind of space, anyways? And why was he forced to clean all of it daily? To take his mind off of scrubbing the floors, he fantasized about living with Dipper Pines. Imagine, the two of them happily together, far away from the awful Gleeful family. He could cook and clean for Dipper, but if he didn’t, Dipper wouldn’t yell at him or cut off his ear (thankfully, his hair concealed the scabbed-over stump, so Dipper didn’t have to see the ugly mess). Dipper was such a genuinely nice person… Will promised himself to finish his chores early to make time to visit him again. Inevitably, the thorn in his side known as Bill Cipher would be in that dimension as well, but it would be worth it as long as he could spend more time with Dipper Pines.

The family came downstairs at eight, and as usual, Will had set the table a few minutes early. Stanford seated himself at his place at the head of the table, took a sip of hot black coffee from his ivory-white mug, and made direct eye contact with Will. “Is the Pines boy awake?”

Behind his back, Will wrung his hands together, contemplating lying. “He… He went home, sir. I took him back about an hour ago.”

“Did you now?” Stanford hummed. “You didn’t invite him to join us for breakfast?”

“I did, sir. He declined.”

“Doesn’t he like your cooking?” Stanford took a bite of his potatoes.

Will’s gaze fell. He just doesn’t like you, he thought. “I don’t know, sir,” he replied softly, then changed the subject. Talking about Dipper Pines with Stanford put him ill at ease for a reason he couldn’t quite comprehend. Perhaps he was plotting something vile to do with that boy. Turning to Mason, he said, “Master, sir, is your coffee to your liking? Do you want more sugar?”

“No, thank you,” answered Mason softly. “It’s sweet enough.”

“It’s sweet, just like you, Will~” Mabel interrupted, mocking her brother.

Mason scowled. “Do shut up, dear sister.”

“I know you were thinking it.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You’ve got a crush on Will, don’t you? You probably invite him into your room when no one’s looking.”

“Disgusting,” Mason remarked sourly. “I wouldn’t have sex with Will, if that’s what you’re implying. He’s a demon. He’s _subhuman_. Besides… I’m not the one who drags Will into my room to undress me.”

Mabel looked offended and scoffed. “I don’t fuck him, idiot. We just have a little fun. Right, Will?”

The demon, who had been standing beside Mason with red cheeks and his gaze cast downward, glanced at Stanford. Throughout the entire conversation between the twins, the older man had remained apathetic, outwardly more interested in his breakfast than the bickering, but Will knew that he was paying attention the entire tie, secretly taking pleasure in the degradation of his servant.

Breakfast ended, and Will cleared the table and escaped to the kitchen to wash the dishes. When Stanford entered the doorway and spoke, he jumped. Stanford never came into the kitchen. “Will,” he said firmly, crossing his arms. “Come to my study once you’re done.”

Flinching in anticipation of what was to come, Will murmured, “Yes, Master Stanford.”

He dreaded Stanford’s study. Without a doubt, the room itself was gorgeous, but the implication of having to see Stanford there was distressing. “Come to my study” meant that Will would either be scolded, punished, or informed of some wicked plot of his. Even Mason and Mabel would shudder at the thought of being summoned to his office.

Spotless dishes were returned to their rightful cabinets, and Will dried his hands and made his way upstairs to the study. He knocked twice on the grand mahogany doors before entering with his head down. He knew Stanford was staring at him.

“Close the door behind you and come stand in front of my desk.”

Will obeyed without question. He was certain that he would be punished, and disobedience would worsen his punishment.

“Why did you let Dipper Pines leave?”

“…You didn’t give me orders to make him stay, sir.”

Will thought he was being clever, but Stanford brought his heavy fist down on his desk, the thunderous sound making the demon wince fearfully.

“How _dare_ you, William, pretend that the blame rests with me,” Stanford snarled, eyes glowing faintly. Will’s heart sank – he wouldn’t get away with this. “I wanted Dipper Pines to stay here. You need to bring him back to me as soon as possible.”

As Stanford told Will of his latest task, a plan blossomed in Will’s mind. “You want me to find Dipper Pines, Master?”

“Yes, Will, that’s what I just said. If you dawdle here any longer, you’ll be punished. Go finish up your chores and find him.”

Will bowed and dared out of the room, shutting the door carefully behind him before allowing his excitement and giddiness to sink in. He cheerfully bounded away, humming a tune to himself, thankful that his Master gave him the most wonderful task he could ever imagine. Because Stanford could use his own portals, for he shared Will’s magic (as did Mason and Mabel), he likely considered finding Dipper to be a tedious chore that he was happy to hand off to his servant. Thank goodness.

* * *

 

 **Dipper** : Mabel, you won’t believe this. I just met parallel versions of us from another dimension.

It took her a minute to respond.

 **Mabel** : Why are you texting me at 6:46 AM, dipshit?

 **Dipper** : You gotta come here and meet Will Cipher. That’s parallel Bill Cipher. And I’ll tell you about the parallel us.

 **Mabel** : I’m not driving to Gravity Falls.

 **Dipper** : I’ll buy you dinner. And dessert.

 **Mabel** : >:(  You win. Gonna ship an Etsy order and then I’ll leave. Be there tonight.

Dipper put his phone on his dresser and went downstairs, hearing his grunkles shuffling around in the kitchen. He had to tell Stan and Ford where he’d disappeared to the previous night, and he was certain that Ford would love to hear about the other dimension.

Ford was at the kitchen counter making an omelet while Bill sat with his feet on the kitchen table, reading the obituaries in the newspaper. Stan lounged on the living room couch, watching television – all fairly typical for a morning in the Mystery Shack.

Bill’s golden eye lit up when he saw Dipper stroll into the kitchen. “Oh shit, hey, Pine Tree! I thought you weren’t home yet. Did Will bring you back?”

“Yep,” replied Dipper, seating himself beside Bill. “Did you tell Ford where I was?”

“He told me,” Ford said, bringing his omelet and a cup of freshly brewed coffee to the table, “That he dropped you off somewhere to spend the night. After some persuasion, he told me that you were in an entirely different dimension."

Bill rolled his eye. “I told you, I’d go back and pick him up after breakfast. But he found his own way back, so…. All is forgiven, right, Fordsy?”

Brown eyes behind cracked glasses narrowed at the demon. Then, he looked to Dipper, and in that moment, the boy realized how relieved he was to be away from the haunting stare of Stanford Gleeful and back with his grunkle. “Where did you go?” inquired Ford. “Do you have the name of the dimension?”

“No,” admitted Dipper. “But it was a timeline where our family had the last name ‘Gleeful.’ It was really weird, because there was a version of me, Mabel, and you, Ford. Stan wasn’t there, though. Oh, and the alternate Bill was Will Cipher. He had blue hair.” He laughed softly. “That’s all probably really hard to believe if you don’t know that there’s literally an infinite number of possible timelines, but I’m sure you understand. I got to spend the night in the family’s mansion, but it was really weird, because Mabel and Mason Gleeful are-“

“I know what Mabel and Mason Gleeful are like,” Ford interjected, throwing Dipper off-guard. “But I’ve never met Ford Gleeful. I assumed he existed, but never personally met him…”

“Wait.” Dipper raised his hand, eyes wide. “What? You know the Gleeful twins?”

After a drawn-out sigh, Ford prepared himself to reluctantly recall his story. “Sort of. I can’t say that I got to know them intimately, but… I know that they’re quite unpleasant people.” Both Bill and Dipper were leaning in, curious to hear his tale.

“I was dimension-hopping in the multiverse when I encountered them,” Ford began, ignoring his omelet in favor of telling the story. “You would have just been twelve, at the time… Yes, I believe this was six months before I met you and your sister. When I encountered the alternate dimension, truth be told, I believed it to be this one. Everything seemed to be in place. The town of Gravity Falls looked exactly as it should. As you likely observed, that dimension is remarkably similar to ours. However, when I went looking for my house, I found that someone else’s house now stood on that particular plot of land, so I returned to the town, wondering if I could figure out which dimension this was from talking to the townsfolk. There, I discovered that people were flocking to what was called the ‘Tent of Telepathy’ as the sun was setting – I understand that Gideon Gleeful of this dimension ran a business of the same name – and so I got my hands on a ticket to see why seemingly every person in town was attending the event. I then suspected that I landed in a dimension where the residents of Gravity Falls were being brainwashed by whoever ran the show, but when I watched the kids, Mabel and Mason, perform magic tricks, I couldn’t sense my mind being altered in any way. Their tricks were impressive, but no more than illusions. They brought a few people on the stage and ‘telepathically’ read their minds, too. I’m sure those people were plans in the audience.

“At the end of their show, Mason announced that in the back of the tent, people could pay an extra fee to get a Tarot card reading, have their future told, or have their palms read.” Ford smiled with a fond glance toward the living room where his brother was, then added, “They’re some of the strangest, and worst, kids I’ve ever met, but like my brother, they had a natural talent for entrepreneurship.”

“So, you met with them personally after the show, right?” Dipper prompted, excitedly leaning closer. No matter the subject, he adored listening to Ford’s stories.

“I’m getting to that part.” Ford had a sip of coffee, not noticing that Bill was reaching across the table to steal a bit of his omelet. “I was intrigued enough to use what little money I had to ask them for a prediction of my future. The line was long, but eventually I was in a sectioned-off part of the tent. Mabel Gleeful pocketed my money, and I sat at a table in front of Mason. You know that I don’t believe in magic. I’m not superstitious, religious, nor do I often turn to spiritual guidance. However, I was curious about these twins and how they’d managed to amass such an enormous following of people.” Although Ford was hesitant to admit it, he added, “This was also the time that I was adrift in the multiverse. I didn’t know when I’d see my own dimension again, and I was desperate for some sort of answer.

“The first thing Mason said surprised me. ‘We saw you sitting in the back of the audience. You’re not from around here, are you, vagabond?’ The fact that they could single me out from the hundred, two hundred audience members made me uneasy. Then, he insists on reading my palm, which as you can imagine, made me very uncomfortable….” Ford wiggled his fingers. “…But I accepted, since he wasn’t giving me much of a choice, and I didn’t want to argue with a preteen who was just trying to make some money. For the record, I still don’t believe that palm-reading is accurate, for it’s not based in any kind of science, but I gave him my hand. It started out normal, and I was thinking that he wouldn’t comment on my sixth finger, until he looked up at me and told me, ‘Your heart line means this, your health line means that, etcetera… And that extra finger means you belong in a freak show.’”

“That’s so cruel!” Dipper exclaimed, furious on behalf of Ford. “I’m so sorry they said something like that…”

“It’s quite all right. I was used to the ridicule by that point,” Ford replied with a warm smile. “They laughed at me, made a few more childish jokes, and then Mason said, ‘Vagabond, you don’t belong in our town. You don’t even belong in our world. It’s almost time for you to go back to where you came from.’ I suppose that in a way, he predicted my future... A few months later, my brother opened the portal, and I came home. Now, I know that wasn’t a particularly exciting tale, but that’s how I know Mason and Mabel Gleeful.” He rubbed his chin. “To be honest, I sometimes see their stares in my nightmares. Their eyes are so haunting…”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Dipper agreed. “They’re really, really weird.”

Ford eyed Bill, who’d eaten half of his omelet at this point, then pulled his plate closer to himself. “So now that I’ve told you of my experience with them, it’s your turn. Tell me what happened while you were in the other dimension. Spare no details.”

Dipper took a breath. “So, I definitely agree with you. Mabel and Mason Gleeful are creepy as hell. They’re cruel and sadistic people. But Stanford Gleeful – they call him Stanford, not Ford – is worse. I was having dinner with them, and Mabel literally dumped a glass of water on Will’s head instead of, you know, asking for a different drink like a normal person. And Stanford acted like that was totally normal. He was so… emotionless. He didn’t care at all. I brought up the other things they were doing to Will…. I think he had a new bruise every time I saw him. And Stanford was like, ‘He deserved it.’” Dipper gestured with his hands in frustration. “Can you believe it? That’s not even the worst part. I accidentally ran into the twins last night when I should’ve been in bed, and they planned to kill me – actually murder me with a knife – and Stanford came to my rescue, but after I told him what they were gonna do to me, he just sent me back to bed. He didn’t care. He didn’t tell them ‘murder is bad, kids. Don’t stab our guest.’ I genuinely believe that if Mabel _had_ murdered me, Stanford Gleeful would’ve helped them cover it up, and they’d just go on like normal.”

Ford nodded, then glared at Bill. “You _did_ endanger his life! What if he died? You should have been keeping an eye on him!”

“Chill, Sixer. He didn’t actually die.”

“He could have! From now on, you’re forbidden from exploring other dimensions without my explicit permission. And I don’t want you taking him back to the dimension with Mason and Mabel Gleeful. It’s just too dangerous.”

Dipper pushed his chair away from the table and stood. “What! Grunkle Ford, please! How can I help Will if I can’t get to his dimension?”

Ford shook his head. “I’m sorry, Dipper, but I’d just like to keep you safe.”

“Will doesn’t need your help, anyways,” Bill pointed out. “He got himself into that mess with that crazy family. He knows what he’s doing.”

* * *

Will was absolutely certain that when he accepted the Gleeful twins’ deal, he was out of his mind, he thought as he dusted Madam’s dresser. Just when he’d thought he’d get the afternoon off to visit Dipper Pines, his masters started piling more chores onto his workload. “Will, clean my room. Will, pick up my prescription. Will, make us tea. Do this. Do that.” Spoiled children. They wouldn’t be able to survive for a single day without him. Neither of them knew how to cook or clean. Mason couldn’t do the buttons on his sleeves by himself, and Mabel needed help lacing up her unnecessarily long boots when she went out in the winter. Why didn’t they just learn how to do it themselves, or at least help each other instead of forcing poor old Will to do everything? He scowled, picking up one of Mabel’s perfume bottles, tempted to crush it in his hand. Of course they wouldn’t help each other. They had drifted so far apart in the recent years, they probably didn’t even remember each other’s middle names.

Grumbling to himself, he set the perfume bottle down and finished tidying up, then trudged downstairs to prepare tea.

He brought the tray of black tea, cream, sugar, miniature sandwiches, and berries to the library, finding the twins at one of the tables. Mason was hunched over a psychology textbook, and Mabel taking notes on biology.

“Will,” said Mabel as the demon placed the tray between the teenagers. “Great-Uncle Stanford wants me to memorize everything in this chapter before Sunday. Can you quiz me?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m quite busy.”

Mason glanced up from his own textbook. “Will,” he said quietly, but firmly. “Do what she says.”

Will bowed. “I would love to, Master. Unfortunately, I was given a lot of tasks to do today. In fact, I was just about to go to the pharmacy.”

“Why?” Mabel asked, raising one thin eyebrow.

Visibly, Mason stiffened. His medication was supposed to be kept secret from both Mabel and Stanford, and he’d made it very clear to Will that if he told anyone, he’d face severe consequences. Will replied, “I need extra-strength pain reliever, Madam, for my numerous injuries.” He briefly brushed his hair back away from the stump that used to be his ear. It had begun to grow back, but was still a scabbed-over mess.

She pursed her lips when she picked up on his snark, but said, “Fine. You can quiz me tomorrow. Go do your errands.”

Will bowed and left, but heard footsteps behind him while in the hall. He turned, and within an instant, Mason’s cold, ashen hand was on his throat and pinning him to the wall.

“What were you thinking?” Mason hissed through clenched teeth, his sharp blue stare reading the fear in Will’s single wide eye. “What if Mabel found out”

 _Be strong_ , Will told himself, swallowing his fear. _Don’t make Master upset. You get to see Dipper Pines in a few hours_. “I’m sorry, sir. I won’t mention it again.”

Mason glared, but released Will and backed off. “Where’s the old bottle?”

“Next to my cleaning solutions in the storage closet, Master.”

“How many pills are left?”

“Two, sir.”

He frowned. “Go put the bottle in my dresser drawer. You’re dismissed.” He hurried back into the library, slamming the door shut behind him and leaving Will to his duties.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That Gleeful family sure is weird, huh? Cool that they all have blue eyes, though. 
> 
> Hey kids! I'm glad I was able to add this chapter so soon after the previous one. I'm thinking of changing the title of the story, though. Any ideas?   
> Also, I really love all of your comments! They're really sweet and I'm so glad you like this story!


	9. Capes

Will considered making a portal that would take him directly into the Mystery Shack’s living room, saving him the trouble of knocking on the door… But that would be rude, wouldn’t it? Besides, he didn’t want to scare Dipper, nor any member of the Pines family, so to be polite, he spawned the swirling green portal in the lawn. The radiant afternoon sun illuminated his surroundings, and Will took in a breath of warm, fresh summer air steeped with the scent of the nearby coniferous trees. How wonderful it would be, he thought, if he could lay down right now and take a nap while the sun crept below the horizon, allowing him to wake up to a starry night sky, where he could turn to Dipper and point out the numerous constellations, for he had many of them memorized…

He shook his head to clear it of his fantasies, stepping onto the porch and knocking on the door, then waiting patiently with his hands held behind his back.

Unfortunately, the door was not answered by Dipper Pines. Instead, before him stood a grouchy-looking old man wearing a sweat-stained tank top (was it sweat?), boxers, and slippers. He noticed a receding hairline, gray hair, a strong chin with a trace of stubble, and he didn’t look to be in good shape. He almost resembled Master Stanford… If his master aged poorly and never exercised. Will bowed slightly before him. “Hello… sir. I’m here to visit Dipper Pines…?”

The man looked him over, shrugged, then took a step to the side to let him in. “Dipper!” he shouted, turning to the staircase. “Visitor for you! Blue-haired Bill Cipher!”

Immediately, Will heard the thud of Dipper jumping off his bed, then scrambling footsteps making their way down the upstairs hall. The boy sprinted down the stairs and immediately engulfed Will in a tight embrace, pulling away to grin and greet him. “Hey, Will! What took you so long? I was getting worried about you!”

The notion that Dipper cared about him brought a flush of pink to Will’s cheeks and a smile to his lips. “I was doing chores… Master and Madam gave me a lot to do before I could come here,” he explained. In his peripheral vision, he caught Stanley walking away, and he whispered, “Who is that, sir?”

“Who, Grunkle Stan?” Dipper glanced over. “Yeah, that’s Stan. Stanley Pines. Sorry if he was rude, he wasn’t expecting guests.”

Will blinked his single round eye. “I’m sorry! I should have told you what time I was coming! Although… I didn’t know when I’d be finished with chores…” He trailed off when Dipper gave his hand a gentle squeeze, his guilt evanescing the instant he caught sight of those warm, forgiving, deep brown eyes.

“It’s okay, Will. You don’t have to apologize.”

He didn’t respond, glancing down at their hands instead. How could someone who looked just like Mason Gleeful be so kind and gentle with him?

Dipper cleared his throat, easing his hand out of Will’s so he could subtly wipe his sweaty palm on his shorts. “So, uh, what do you wanna do? I can give you a tour of the house? Then we can go hang out in my room?”

Of course, Will said, “I’m content to do whatever you want to do, sir!”

“Okay, then!” Dipper chirped. “I’ll show you around. That’s the living room. Grunkle Stan spends most of his time there. The gift shop’s through there, and if you go down that hall, you’ll find the Mystery Shack’s museum. It’s pretty cool, if you like butchered taxidermy and general weird stuff. The Mystery Shack is only open on weekends now. Soos comes in to run it and Stan and Ford usually spend the day in town so they don’t get annoyed by the tourists.”

“Quick question?”

“Shoot.”

“You keep saying ‘Grunkle Stan.’ Does ‘grunkle’ mean ‘great-uncle?’”

“Oh, yeah.” Dipper chuckled. “It’s kind of a funny word, isn’t it? Stan insisted we call him that when we were kids. Ford didn’t like it at first, but I think it grew on him. So… That means that Mabel and Mason Gleeful don’t use that word? Do they seriously call Stanford ‘Great-Uncle Stanford’ all the time?”

“…They do.”

“Isn’t that weird? He’s their relative. They shouldn’t have to be so formal with him.”

Will’s gaze dropped to his shoes. “Master Stanford insists on it.” While Dipper led him up the stairs, he continued, all while staring at his shoes. “Soon after Master Stanford arrived from the portal, seven years ago, Madam gave him a nickname to mock him. I believe she called him ‘Fordsy.’ Master Stanford hates to be disrespected, so he raised his hand to strike her. Master Mason then came over and stood in front of her and told him not to harm his sister… So Master Stanford hit him instead. He warned both of them to be respectful from that point on, lest he punish them.”

“…Wow…” Dipper stopped at the top of the stairs, mouth agape. “Stanford abuses them?”

“He doesn’t call it abuse… It’s punishment, and whenever it happens, it’s deserved. And anyways, he’s never actually hit Madam; sometimes Master Mason, but only if he’s drunk or in a foul mood.”

Dipper shook his head. “I had no idea… But I can’t say I’m surprised after spending the night in his house. He does strike me as the kind of person who would do that.”

Will just nodded, then lifted his head at last to curiously gaze down the hall. “Is your room up here?”

“Oh, yeah!” Happy to change the subject, Dipper showed Will to the room he was staying in. The same one he and his sister shared in the summers, it held two twin-sized beds, Mabel’s side of the room currently untouched; Dipper’s in disarray. His bed was a mess with the sheets pulled back and his laptop and a bag of chips sitting on it. He also left his clothes strewn across the floor. “I’m just here for the summer,” Dipper explained, walking over to set his laptop on the floor and plug it in to charge it. “Oh, this reminds me! Mabel’s driving over, and she’ll be here in a little bit.”

“…Mabel Pines?” Understandably, Will was wary. “What’s she like?”

“Don’t worry. She’s nothing like Mabel Gleeful. She’s… Oh, geez, where do I even start? She’s ‘quirky.’ She’s got a lot of personality. She loves super bright colors – think 1980s – and patterns. Patterned socks and sweaters with cute designs are her thing. She goes to community college near our house, and she knits sweaters and hats and stuffed animals to sell them online. You’ll love her, trust me. So, do you want to have dinner with us so you can get to know her?”

Will fidgeted with his hands. “I’m sorry, sir, but I have to be back at the mansion to cook for my masters. I wish I could join you, though…”

“Oh, right,” Dipper sighed. “They should learn to cook for themselves, honestly… Think you can come back later tonight? Or tomorrow?”

With a demure smile, Will replied, “I’ll see what I can do, sir.”

Couldn’t Will even get more than a couple hours to himself? Dipper couldn’t imagine having a job where he had to cook and clean all day, without even being paid – well, that would make it slavery, wouldn’t it? Poor Will, he thought, gazing at the blue-haired demon and the yellowish bruises on his cheeks and jaw. Will deserved more than a mundane tour. “Let’s go downstairs and have coffee or tea,” he suggested.

Will’s expression lit up. God, he was so cute when he was happy. “Tea would be lovely, sir!”

“We’ve also got doughnuts,” he offered. “…If Bill hasn’t eaten all of them, that is.”

The demon laughed softly. “I wouldn’t put that past him,” he said, and took Dipper’s hand to walk downstairs at his side.

In the kitchen, Dipper put the kettle on the stove, fetching a mug and a bag of green tea and setting them aside while the water boiled. Although he told Will to sit at the table, he’d insisted on helping Dipper, fetching plates for the doughnuts. Dipper pulled the box out of the fridge, placing two doughnuts on their plates. The whole situation felt so odd: sitting down with a demon and having grocery-store pastries and tea. Will seemed quite content, though, smiling brightly at Dipper up until the boy asked, “The Gleeful family – they don’t pay you, do they? You’re practically their slave, right?”

“Ah…” Will shook his head. “They pay me.”

“But not in money?”

“I have no use for your currency.”

Dipper frowned. “So… How do they pay you?”

Will was pulling apart his doughnut, leaving it in pieces on his plate. “I get Master and Madam’s souls.”

“Uh, no offense, but that sounds like shitty payment for what they’re putting you through,” the boy said, tapping his fingers on the table idly while he gazed at Will. “It’s unbelievable how horribly they treat you.”

“Sometimes, I regret making the deal,” Will admitted, now pulling apart the chunks of doughnut into even smaller pieces before eating them. “But I believe that in the end, it’ll all be worth it. They’ll all be dead and I own some of the most valuable possessions in the multiverse.”

Dipper remained skeptical. “Are souls _that_ valuable?”

The question, innocent to Dipper, made Will set down what he was eating, stare unblinking at the table for a moment, then look back up with an owlish wide eye at the boy. “Very few people are willing to give up their souls, sir. If someone else owns your soul, you live out the rest of your life normally. You think that it’s no big deal that you shook a demon’s hand when you were twelve and pledged the most valuable part of yourself to him. But then, when you die, there’s no afterlife. You can’t move on. There’s no heaven. There’s no hell. There’s no reincarnation. You entirely cease to exist.” A quick glance down, and Dipper noticed that Will had clenched his hands into tight, trembling fists. “Having one soul is nothing short of a miracle, but _two_? My status amongst other demons, as well as my power, will increase exponentially. I’ll be a _god_ amongst them. I could become the strongest creature in-“ A harsh whistle from the kettle forced Will to flinch and break off. “…Ah. The tea.” He rose from his seat to turn off the stove.

“Will, you’re the guest, you can sit down,” Dipper said, but Will was already at the counter, pouring water into the mug, then carefully picking it up to bring it back to the table.

Then, the sound of boots coming down the hall made both Dipper and Will glance up. Dipper knew the sound to be Ford, but the demon was staring at the kitchen’s doorway with wide, confused eyes. “Dipper,” Ford said, and stepped into the room. “Has Mabel old you when she’s getting here?”

At the sight of Ford, Will let the mug slip from his hands, showing no reaction when it shattered at his feet, splashing boiling water on his ankles. He only stared at Ford with the blood drained from his face, only jolted back into reality when Dipper rushed forward to help him clean up. He crouched down, helping the boy pick up the ceramic shards. “I’m sorry! I-I’m really sorry, I didn’t- It was an accident, I swear…!” he stammered, struggling to hold back tears.

“No worries,” Dipper told him gently. “It’s just a mug. Are you okay, though? Wasn’t the water hot?”

“I-it’s fine, sir,” Will assured him, wincing slightly once he realized how much his legs stung. “I’m so, so sorry about the cup…”

Dipper stood and tossed the mug shards into the trash, Will following suit. The demon was keeping his gaze down now, refusing to look at Ford. However, when Ford got out a towel to clean up the water from the floor, Will began to stare at him, seemingly awed. Dipper coughed and nudged him to get his attention, startling him from whatever he was thinking about while looking at the older man. “Will, this is my great-uncle Ford Pines. Grunkle Ford, this is Will Cipher, the one I told you about earlier.”

Ford rose to his feet and tossed the used cloth onto the counter so he could offer his hand for Will to shake. Will just stared at his six fingers, not interested in the number of digits, but immersed in memories of Stanford Gleeful. “Pleasure to meet you, Will. Sorry I startled you.”

Will blinked and finally looked Ford in the eye. His eyes were brown, warm, inviting… much like Dipper’s, and much different from Stanford’s. “Pleasure to meet you too, sir,” he whispered. “No need to apologize. I should apologize to you for breaking your mug. I can replace it, or repay you…”

Ford withdrew his hand once he figured that Will wouldn’t shake it. “That’s quite alright. I think we had one too many mugs, anyways. Say, I wanted to ask… What dimension are you from?”

“Dimension L-35, sir.”

“Interesting… Thank you, I’ll have to record that…” Ford nodded to himself. “Anyway. Dipper, has Mabel said anything since this morning?”

Dipper couldn’t help but spare a glance to Will again. The poor thing’s hands were shaking. “Nope, but she should be here soon.”

“Oh good. And have you seen my current journal?”

“I borrowed it. It’s on my dresser if you want it.”

“Thanks, Dipper. Again, Will, good to meet you.” Before leaving, he said sternly to Dipper (although with a smile), “Don’t forget what I said about interdimensional travel. I don’t want you messing around in other dimensions anymore.”

With a grin, Dipper playfully rolled his eyes. “Yes, Grunkle Ford, I know.”

Ford signed with two fingers that he’d be keeping an eye on him before disappearing. Once he left, Will released a long breath as if he’d been holding it in the entire time Ford was in the room.

“Hey, Will,” Dipper murmured, putting his hand on the demon’s shoulder. “You okay? When Ford came in, you just… You froze up.”

He nodded, still a bit shaken. “I’m okay, sir. I just wasn’t expecting him…”

“I know he looks like Stanford Gleeful… But he’s really nice. He won’t hurt you, okay?”

“…I know.” Will was wringing his hands together again. “I just- I can’t help it. I know it’s not him, but he looks just like him… Same face, same height, same number of fingers…”

To comfort him, Dipper wrapped his arms around him and embraced him. He couldn’t bear to see Will so utterly terrified, especially around someone who would never harm him. He didn’t even want to know what the Gleeful family had done to him to warrant such a response. “It’s okay,” he cooed to Will. “Everything will be okay, Will. I promise.”

“I… I hope so, sir.”

* * *

Mason was thirteen when he approached Will and asked for a cape to go with his stage costume. The twins would occasionally request that their servant upgrade their outfits (“Add sequins. Make a new skirt. We want new matching jackets.”) but the request for a cape intrigued Will. “I can do that for you, Master, but why do you want one?”

He scowled. “It’s not your place to ask ‘why,’ Will. You’re to follow my orders without question.”

Will struggled to keep a straight face. The kid was parroting Stanford in an attempt to intimidate his servant. Not only was it hilarious, but Will knew that by refusing to answer his question, he was trying to hide something. The child probably thought he was being clever about it, too. To avoid confrontation, he bowed and said, “Yes, sir. I’ll have it ready before the next performance.”

Later that evening, Stanford left the house to have dinner with friends, leaving Will in charge of watching the twins. He left them to do their own thing while he popped into each room to clean them. Once he reached Stanford’s study, he noticed that the door was open a crack. Had Master Stanford left it open on accident? He approached it slowly and pushed open the door, stepping silently into the room.

To see Mason there was no surprise, but he hadn’t expected to see Mason donning his great-uncles cape. The boy was facing the window, not noticing that Will entered. The cape, navy blue and lined with white fur at the collar, was clownishly large on him, the thick fabric puddled at his feet. Will couldn’t hold in his laugh this time, too amused by the sight of his Master drowning in Stanford’s cape. He was a proud peacock ostentatiously displaying his feathers, even though in reality, he was a preteen playing dress-up.

Hearing Will, Mason spun around, his entire face going red. “What are you doing here?” he demanded shrilly, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat, calmed himself, and said in a lower voice, “Will, what are you doing in here? I thought you were busy.”

Will covered his smile with his hand. “I came in here to clean, sir. Now, what are _you_ doing with Master Stanford’s cape?”

Mason quickly shed the cape, draping it over the chair at Stanford’s desk where he’d found it. “Nothing. Don’t tell him, okay?”

Stanford’s reaction would be amusing, but seeing Mason so flustered and embarrassed… Will decided to take pity on him. Of course, he’d let himself have some fun with the boy. “Don’t worry sir, I won’t. But your sister might find this interesting…”

“You can’t tell her, either!” Mason stormed up to Will, who only leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, keeping his expression of faint amusement. “She’ll make fun of me!”

“So this is why you asked me to make a cape for your stage costume?” Will teased. “You want to be just like your great-uncle?”

Will expected a much snarkier response than the one he got. Mason lowered his voice as he replied, “…Great-Uncle Stanford is… everything I want to be. I know he likes Mabel more, but he’s super smart. He’s skilled with magic. He’s always calm and collected. I don’t think he’d ever get stage fright like I do.”

“Ah.” The demon was starting to understand, although he couldn’t quite pity someone who looked up to Stanford Gleeful as a role model. “And dressing up like him makes you feel better, doesn’t it? You think having a cape like his will help you feel better?”

Mason nodded, his cheeks, nose, and ears still beet-red. “I just feel like if I had one… I could act like he does.”

Will sighed softly and knelt in front of the boy, taking his hand. His smile was no longer one of amusement, but sympathy. “I’ll finish your cape tonight, Master. I hope it cures your stage fright.”

For the first time in a long time, Mason smiled genuinely, too. Then, he knelt and threw his arms around Will’s neck and hugged him tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mason was probably a really creepy but really cute kid. Now, he's just plain creepy (but Will's still got a bit of a crush on him).
> 
> I hope I can make the next chapter a bit longer! I just get really excited to post them! Reader's comments on the story are the best, too. I love hearing your predictions and opinions of the characters!!


	10. Wounds

After saying goodbye to Dipper, Will returned on time to make dinner, going straight to the kitchen to begin cooking. At precisely 6:30, the twins seated themselves at the table, which their servant had set. Stanford took a minute longer, and once he sat down, he made eye contact with Will and said in a cold, stern voice, “You were just in that other dimension, weren’t you, Will? You brought back Dipper Pines for me, correct?”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop a couple degrees, and Mabel and Mason set down their utensils quietly to watch. Will stammered, “N-no, Master Stanford, but- but I will! I have a plan, I promise!” When Stanford rose from his seat, about to advance on Will, the demon continued, “My plan is to… earn the trust of Dipper Pines! Y-you see, if he trusts me, he’ll come back to this dimension willingly.” Stanford took a menacing step forward; Will took one backward. “If we force him to come here, h-he might get suspicious, or panic, and get Bill Cipher to protect him from us, but-!” Stanford had paused, intrigued, so Will continued. “-But if I can manipulate him into trusting me, bringing him back will be easy! It might take a few days, but I’m certain it will work, sir!”

Stanford, much to Will’s relief, returned to his seat. “That’s fine, as long as it takes you no more than a week to bring him to me.”

“Yes, sir!” Will chirped.

“When are you next going back to see him?”

“After I do dishes, sir… And if possible, I’ll spend the night at his house.”

Stanford nodded, picking up his fork. “As long as you finish all of your duties before you go, and you’re back on time to cook breakfast.”

Will nodded and backed out of the dining room, retreating to the kitchen. His relief that Stanford bought his lie was slowly transforming into anxiety as he realized the weight of what he’d have to do. He’d successfully convinced Stanford that visiting Dipper had a purpose, but now, he had no choice but to follow through and surrender Dipper to Stanford by the end of the week. The mere thought of it made Will feel ill, for he had no idea what awfulness his Master had planned for the boy.

After clearing the table and doing dishes, Will was ready to return to Dipper’s dimension, but heard Mason call him from upstairs. He could pretend to not have heard him… But he had to see if he wanted something important. With a heavy sigh, he followed the sound of his Master’s voice to find him in his room. “Sir?” he asked softly and curiously.

Mason was sitting on his bed, glaring at Will as he normally did. “I want to know why you’re going back to the other dimension.”

“I… Nervously, Will began to fidget, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “I said it at dinner, sir. I plan to earn the trust of Dipper Pi-“

“ _Bullshit_ ,” the boy snapped. “Great-Uncle Stanford might have fallen for your lie, but I didn’t. Why are you _really_ going there?”

Will, of course, continued to lie. “I don’t know what you mean, sir. It’s part of my plan.”

“William Cipher.” Mason sprang to his feet and grabbed Will’s wrist, halting his nervous fidgeting. “We both know that you’re not trying to manipulate someone. You’re too meek for that. So tell me why you keep wanting to go back. Do you have a crush on Dipper or something?”

Will’s reaction told Mason all he needed to know, with cheeks flushed and lack of eye contact. He tried to pull away, too. Mason just smirked and squeezed his wrist. “That’s pretty pathetic, even for you, because you know that he’ll never return the feelings of a lowly, self-pitying piece of shit like you. But, I have to admit, demon, it’s fitting… in a way. Both you and Dipper Pines are timid, whiny brats, so you make the perfect pair.”

Will uttered a soft whine. It was bad enough that Master found out about his feelings for Dipper, but did he have to mock him for it? “Yes, sir… You’re right. It’s fitting. Permission to be dismissed?”

“Absolutely not. I want to hear more about this little fancy of yours.” Mason released him and crossed his arms. “What, exactly, do you see in Dipper Pines?”

The demon swallowed and turned away. “Sir, please…”

“You’re not allowed to leave this room until you tell me.”

He whimpered, but finally decided to answer Mason honestly. “He… He’s nice to me. I like that.”

“Yes, but plenty of people have been ‘nice’ to you. Pacifica and Gideon were nice to you, but I don’t see you chasing after them. What _else_ do you like about Dipper?”

“I… I think he’s handsome and has nice eyes, and he genuinely cares about me,” Will mumbled, inching toward the door, only to abruptly stop when Mason let out a barking laugh.

“You think that Dipper Pines is handsome?” he jeered with a wide grin. Will wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him show that many teeth in his life. “ _Really?_ Even though he looks just like me?” When Will didn’t respond, he said, “Why don’t you go ahead and admit you’ve got a crush on me, too?”

Will had no idea how he was supposed to answer that. He was right, but… “Sir, I have business to attend to,” he whispered. “May I please be dismissed?”

Mason said sharply, “Do you seriously fucking think I’m letting you go yet? You stay here until I’m finished with you.”

Will flinched at his harsh tone and nodded.

The brunette sighed and reached out, running his soft, ashen fingertips over Will’s cheek. “You know, Will, that I’m messing with you,” he said, his smile wry and vaguely threatening. “Just having a bit of fun. I already knew you fancied me… You like my sister, too.”

As if on cue, Mabel strolled into Mason’s room and slammed the door behind her, the loud noise making Will jump. She smirked, and Mason continued, “I just think it’s funny that you think you have even the slightest chance with either of us, or Dipper Pines, or whoever else makes your dick hard. You know that you’re less than human, don’t you? You’re a filthy fucking demon, who only deserves to mingle with filth like yourself. In fact, you’re lucky to be able to serve my sister and I.”

With both twins staring at him, Will was too frightened and ashamed to say a word. If Mabel wasn’t blocking the door, he’d make a run for it…

“You want to go back to Dipper Pines’s dimension, don’t you?” Mason hummed, taking a fistful of Will’s hair in his hand, and yanking hard enough to force a yelp from his lips. “You want to confess your love to him? I wonder if he’d be able to say, ‘I love you too’ to you when your ugly face is beaten to a pulp.”

“I…” The horrifying realization of what was to come sank in. “Master, please don’t…”

Mabel reached out and grabbed Will by his shirt collar, then threw him to the floor. “Shut up, we don’t want to hear your whining,” she said callously, eyes alight with sadistic glee. In anticipation of what was to come, Will curled up, shielding himself. Mabel kicked his side a few times before Mason reached down and pulled the demon back up by his shirt collar only to punch him squarely in the nose, sending him back to the ground. Searing pain shot through his entire face and his eyes involuntarily welled up with hot tears as he went limp on the ground. When he saw blood dripping onto the floor through blurry, teary vision, his first thought was _Oh Gods, now I have to bleach the bloodstains out or Master will punish me_ , but it occurred to him that at the moment, Master Mason likely wasn’t concerned with the state of his carpet. He covered his broken nose with cupped hands, fearful of what was next. When Madam stepped on him, digging her heel into his ribcage, he whined and squirmed, but made no move to flee, allowing her to do as she pleased. He’d brought this upon himself, hadn’t he? He shouldn’t have lied to Master Stanford in the first place. He shouldn’t have spoken aloud his feelings for Dipper Pines; in fact, he shouldn’t have fallen in love with him in the first place. Master Mason was right. He didn’t deserve the affection of anyone. Lest the twins worsen the state of his nose, he kept his face covered, but they soon had his hands pinned down, giving them full access to his face, allowing them to bestow him with a broken jaw, split lip, and black eye. No matter how much he whimpered and struggled, they showed no mercy. They always did what they wanted, and he could never stop them.

* * *

 

When Mabel arrived, she greeted everyone with big hugs, as usual, saying how much she missed her grunkles. The four of them went out to dinner together, Bill tagging along for the hell of it, and Dipper paid for everyone’s meals (he was reluctant, but he owed Mabel, and figured he’d do Ford and Stan a favor). Upon returning to the house, he immediately brought Mabel to his room to discuss why he’d asked her to come in the first place.

“I’ll start from the top. Bill and I were dicking around in another dimension. Then, we met Will Cipher. He’s a demon and he looks just like Bill, except he has blue hair, a blue eye, and an entirely different personality. He’s much nicer and pretty shy. Then, someone who looked exactly like me, except for his blue eyes, came through a portal and took Will away. This guy’s name is Mason Gleeful, and Will Cipher’s his servant.”

“What?” Mabel tilted her head. “That’s crazy! So, in another dimension, you got married to Gideon and took his last name?”

“…What? No. It’s more like, he’s me if I actually was Gideon, but way eviler. There’s a Mabel Gleeful, too.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We’re ‘eviler’ than Gideon Gleeful in that dimension? Also, is ‘eviler’ a word?”

“Probably. Anyway, yeah. Mabel and Mason Gleeful are really horrible. They force Will to be their slave, and they abuse him. They hit him and say really shitty things to him. Their great-uncle Stanford Gleeful encourages it, too.”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. I wanted to try to help him. Bill refuses to help, because he keeps saying that Will got himself into that situation, but Will is so miserable with them… We have to do something. Will you help me save him?”

“Of course, I’d be glad to!” Mabel agreed eagerly. “What’s your plan?”

Dipper didn’t answer.

“…You don’t have a plan, do you?”

“Well, no, not yet,” he admitted sheepishly. “I was gonna come up with one once you got here…”

Mabel let out an exaggerated, loud sigh. “I guess I could help you with it. What exactly is the goal?”

“Here’s the thing. Will is bound to the Gleeful twins through a deal he made with them. He’s their servant for the rest of their lives, and when they die, he gets their souls. He tried to rationalize it to himself, because apparently human souls are super valuable, but he’s having a really tough time. He hates being their slave. I’m not sure exactly how this works, but… Maybe we can convince Mason Gleeful to break the deal with Will and set him free?”

The girl sat cross-legged on her bed, studying Dipper. “But what if Will doesn’t want to? Because of the souls?”

Dipper shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe I’ll offer him my soul.”

“But didn’t you just say souls are super-duper valuable?”

“Yeah, but I don’t really care whether or not I have an afterlife. I’m an atheist, anyway.”

“You don’t get an afterlife without a soul?”

“Right.”

“What if you had the chance to go to Heaven? What if it’s a real place?” Mabel questioned.

“I never really believed in Heaven. Look, if even if it was real, I’d rather give my soul to Will. Anyway, who even knows if Will wants it?”

“Yeah, but-“

From downstairs came a knock at the back door. The twins made eye contact, silently asking each other who was visiting at eight at night. Then, realization struck Dipper, and he raced downstairs to open the door.

The blue hair told him that the person standing before him was indeed Will Cipher, although Dipper wouldn’t have been able to tell from looking at his face. He was hardly recognizable – dried blood was caked around an injury on his forehead, he had ugly purple and red bruising around his eye and jaw (both swollen a fair amount, and his nose was crooked, red, and had thick blood slowly oozing from it onto his split lip. He whimpered softly, reached out to Dipper, then promptly collapsed against the boy, falling unconscious.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dipper cursed, struggling to hold Will up and bring him into the house. “Help! Mabel, Stan, Ford- Will’s injured!”

Mabel was the first one at his side, helping Dipper drag Will over to the couch in the living room while Stan and Ford made their way over. Everyone was just as horrified as Dipper to see the state of the blue-haired demon, but Mabel immediately jumped to action, running to the bathroom to grab whatever first-aid supplies she could get her hands on. Stan went to the kitchen for ice and a dish towel, and Ford knelt beside Will to get a closer look at his gruesome injuries. He felt his nose and his swollen jaw, then as gently as he could, pried open his mouth. “His jaw’s broken and he’s missing a tooth,” he told Dipper, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Who would do this to him?” He pushed Will’s bangs away from his face, revealing a gash on his forehead above his eyepatch.

“Who do you think? Either Mabel and Mason Gleeful, or Stanford Gleeful,” Dipper replied, leaning over Will to undo his bowtie and the top few buttons of his shirt. Beneath his shirt collar lay red finger imprints, so Dipper curiously hovered his fingers over the marks, unsurprised to find that their shape matched his own. Of course, Mason had strangled him… Then next time he saw that stuffy, egotistical, sadistic son of a bitch he’d give him a taste of his own medicine.

When Mabel returned, she cleaned up the dried blood and carefully put gauze into his nostrils to, if not halt, slow the bleeding. To make sure he wasn’t injured beneath his eyepatch, she removed the black triangle.

No one in the family had seen what lay beneath Bill’s eyepatch, so they weren’t sure what to expect once Will’s was removed – was it an empty eye socket? A perfectly normal eye? Whatever they thought was there, none of them had any idea that they’d find a beautiful swirling galaxy where the eye should be. A bizarre thing to behold, it was certainly not something of this world. It swirled around, yet seemed to simultaneously flow like a stream, but somehow was not a liquid. Rather, it appeared to simply by a part of his skin. Each individual star within it twinkled, and Dipper swore he could see a few planets in the galaxy.

Stan breathed, “What the hell is that?” but no one had an answer, not even Ford, who was staring in awe still.

Eventually, Mabel finished cleaning the injury on Will’s forehead, bandaged it, then reached out and lightly touched Will’s swollen jaw. “What do we do about this?” she asked, lips pursed in a puzzled frown.

Ford blinked and adjusted his glasses, drawn from his trance that the galaxy induced. “We put ice on it and take him to the doctor’s first thing tomorrow morning.”

“…But can they help him if he’s not human? Won’t they know something’s off when they see his magic eye?”

Dipper took the ice from Stan and placed it on the side of Will’s head so he could lay on it while unconscious and let it bring down the swelling on his jaw. “Mabel’s right. They’re gonna think he’s an alien and turn him over to the FBI or something.”

Ford scratched his chin. “But if he needs surgery…”

“Demons can heal themselves, can’t they?” Dipper asked.

“I don’t know… Bill!” Ford shouted, and immediately, Bill sauntered into the room as if he’d been standing right outside the doorway the entire time.

“Oh, hey,” he said with a toothy grin. “Will’s here! Hiya, buddy!” He swooped in, leaning over his counterpart and grabbing his chin, turning his head from side to side to look over his face. “Boy, they really gave it to ya good, didn’t they? What’d you do to piss those kids off this time?”

Dipper snapped, “Show some sympathy, Bill!”

“Don’t really know how, sorry.”

To ease the growing tension between his nephew and the demon, Ford said, “Bill, do you know if Will’s going to be able to heal himself?”

He glanced at Will’s wounded face, then shrugged. “Yeah, probably. It’ll take a few days for everything to heal, ‘cause the Gleeful family drains most of his magic, but he’s gonna be fine.”

There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone. “That’s fantastic,” Ford murmured. “Thank you, Bill.”

“Sure thing. Hey, do we have any more Pringles? I can’t find ‘em in the pantry.”

* * *

 

Will whimpered quietly as he struggled to open his puffy, bruised eye. The room was dark, but he could make out a dim lamp at the foot of the bed – no, couch? Whose couch was this? Oh… This is… Dipper Pines’s living room?

He reached up to feel his own face, checking the extent of his injuries. He wasn’t concerned about his aching jaw or black eye, but panic set in when he realized that his eyepatch was missing. What if Dipper Pines had seen him like this? He swept his hair in front of the galaxy, then slowly forced himself to sit up. His entire face stung, and he could feel bruises on his chest from being kicked and stepped on. All in all, it wasn’t too bad. He’d certainly survive.

A quiet female voice came from behind him, startling him. “Are you feeling okay?”

He turned to see Madam beside him, and his eye widened as much as it could with fear. But then… He noticed that she was different. She wore a sweater and shorts… And no makeup? Could she be Mabel Pines?”

“Will? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Mabel… Pines?” he mumbled, his jaw injury preventing him from opening his mouth wider than a few centimeters.

“That’s not a number. But yeah, that’s me. Can you see how many fingers?”

“Three…”

“Okay, good.” She picked up the ice pack and gently held it against Will’s face. He leaned into it, watching Mabel Pines. Much like Madam, she was naturally beautiful, but didn’t cover it with cosmetics. “Kinda surprised you’re already awake. You’ve been unconscious for just an hour.  You want to go back to sleep?”

“No, it’s fine… Eyepatch? Where’s my eyepatch?”

She picked up the black triangle, and Will took it from her, fitting it into place as quickly as possible.

“Why do you wear it?”

He took the ice pack from her so she didn’t have to keep holding it there. “Because it’s ugly beneath it, ma’am.”

“Are we talking about the same thing? You think that galaxy is ugly?” she asked incredulously. “It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

Will was naturally suspicious of her compliment. Too many times before, Madam had said something kind, only to turn it into a harsh insult. He looked away from Mabel and murmured, “…No, ma’am. It’s hideous.”

“No way,” she insisted. “Why do you think that?”

“Because Madam and Master said so.”

She frowned. “I’m pretty sure they were lying. Seriously, it’s beautiful. It’s like you’ve got a little bit of outer space on you!”

“But it’s… abnormal,” Will continued to protest. “It’s strange. Not what eyes are supposed to look like.”

“That’s why it’s cool!” Mabel grinned. “It makes you unique!”

Will slowly turned his gaze back to her. She wasn’t messing with him, was she? Did she mean it? Her eyes were honest… so warm and kind like Dipper’s… “Do you mean it, ma’am?”

She reached out, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. He didn’t flinch away. “Definitely. I’m gonna go get Dipper, okay?”

“Okay… And, ma’am?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I dreaming?” he mumbled. “Are you… real?”

She fixed him with a puzzled look. “I’m real,” she confirmed before going upstairs to fetch her brother.

Will collapsed back down with a groan, cradling the ice against his jaw. This girl, Mabel Pines… She was too incredible to be real… If not a dream, she was certainly an angel, come to bestow mercy upon him.

* * *

Once Dipper was downstairs, Mabel approached Will, worried he’d passed out again, until he cracked open his eye and smiled. She smiled, too. “See, he’s awake! Told you so.”

“Never accused you of lying,” Dipper replied, and knelt down by the couch. “Hey, Will. How’s it going?”

“Mm… Could be better… could be worse,” he replied, wincing as he spoke.

“Are you working on healing yourself?”

Will sighed softly. “I am… broken bones take longer… And a lot of energy.”

Dipper brushed Will’s hair back, a bit surprised to see his eyepatch back on. “So,” he began quietly. “Did Mabel and Mason Gleeful do this to you?”

The demon nodded, clutching the ice pack a bit tighter, despite how the cold bit into his fingertips. “Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

“…Master doesn’t like me coming here.”

“What?”

“Doesn’t like it when I come here,” he repeated, shrinking away from Dipper, instinctively fearing that he’d upset him. Dipper, of course, didn’t look mad, but he could never be sure. Sometimes Master looked content right before hitting him.

Dipper frowned. “Then… Why’d you come?”

“Wanted to see you.”

“Right, but… Couldn’t you have spared yourself all this if you stayed home?”

Could he have? Will shrugged.

“Will…” Dipper cupped Will’s uninjured cheek, staring into his eyes. Will stared right back. “Listen. You don’t have to come here if it means you’re gonna get hurt, okay?”

To that, Will didn’t respond. It was so kind of Dipper to be concerned for his well-being, but he didn’t deserve such kindness; besides, the injuries were bearable, and he adored spending time with Dipper.

“You hear me, Will? Don’t endanger yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” Will mumbled.

“I hate seeing you injured.”

 _Really? Master and Madam love seeing me injured. Master says I look prettiest when I’m covered in bruises, and Madam says she loves the look of fear in my eyes right before she hits me_. “…I’m sorry you have to see me like this, sir.”

Dipper sighed and stood. “It’s okay, Will. I’m just glad they didn’t kill you.”

“I am too, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably my favorite chapter so far! Poor, poor Will. I wonder why Mabel and Mason say such horrible things to him?


	11. Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the story's been progressing, I've realized that the tags need to be updated. Warning for this chapter - it contains physical and emotional child abuse.

It was the first and only time that Mason got into the liquor cabinet and stole whiskey housed in an expensive-looking glass bottle. In the middle of the night, he’d taken the bottle from the cabinet and to his room.

Will knocked on his bedroom door and entered, puzzled to see him suddenly spin around. He’d been standing at his desk, and now appeared to be hiding something behind his back. Will tilted his head. “I’m sorry, sir, I heard you in the hallway, and wanted to make sure-“

“Everything’s fine,” Mason snapped, cheeks flushed pink. “Go back to bed, or chores, or whatever.”

“Are you… hiding something on your desk, sir?” Will asked, taking little care to conceal the teasing note to his voice.

“No.”

“Is it a dirty magazine, perhaps?” Will guessed.

Mason just scowled, and since Will wasn’t about to go near him and risk being hit, he let the conversation end, bowed, and backed out of the room. Whatever Mason was doing was probably normal for boys his age.

Naïve, fourteen-year-old Mason was convinced he could get away with it. Steal the whiskey, have a night experimenting with drinking, and return it the following night while Stanford was asleep.

Their great-uncle called him into his study that afternoon, and they – Will, Mabel, and Mason – found him leaning against his desk, arms folded across his chest as his icy stare swept over the three. “I want to know which one of you stole my liquor,” he demanded. “There’s only four of us in this house, so it was one of you.”

He turned to his prime suspect, Will, and stepped threateningly toward him. “You, demon. What did you do with it?”

Will’s blue eye widened, finally understanding what Mason was concealing from him last night. He shook his head. “I don’t have it, sir- I mean, I didn’t take it, I don’t even like alcohol, sir, Master Stanford!”

Not satisfied with his response, Stanford yanked Will toward him by his shirt collar. “Don’t make me punish you in front of-“

“H-have you checked Master Mason’s room, sir?”

When Will glanced over and saw Mason’s own blue eyes widen with fear, he immediately regretted his decision to spare himself from punishment in exchange for his young master. Granted, the boy was undoubtedly the culprit, but Will easily could have lied to save him. Certainly, lying was his duty, wasn’t it? As Mason was the only family member he was officially bound to, and obeyed Mabel and Stanford by extension, he should have done his best to protect Mason. However, he stood idly by while Stanford rounded on the boy and fixed him with a fearsome glare, then suddenly stormed from the office. Mason followed close behind, pathetically protesting, trying to tell him not to trust Will, and Mabel and Will trailed them at a distance.

The older man’s navy-blue cape swung about him as he tore apart Mason’s room, the boy watching from the doorway and fretfully chewing on his nails. Mabel lingered in the hall beside Will. He thought from her neutral expression, she didn’t care about the fate of her brother, but her eyes betrayed her concern.

At last, Stanford found his treasure buried in Mason’s closet, pulling it out and thrusting it toward Mason, who in turn flinched as if the bottle was a weapon. “Mason Gleeful,” Stanford said fiercely. “Explain yourself!”

His forehead visibly covered in sweat and cheeks bright red, Mason surrendered. “I… I took it last night,” he mumbled, hanging his head. “I swear, I was going to return it tonight, a-and… I didn’t take much.”

“You stole from me.” With care, Stanford set the bottle on Mason’s desk, then removed his cape, draping it over the desk’s chair. “You’re _fourteen_. You’ve been in my care for two years. You should know better than to steal!” He then undid his belt, sliding it out from the beltloops slowly and threateningly. Mason’s face went from red with shame to sheet-white with horror as he realized the implication of the action. Mabel peered into the room, took one look at the belt, and briskly walked to her room, shutting and locking the door behind her, unwilling to watch or listen to Mason’s punishment. Will, however, stayed behind, worried about his master.

Stanford ordered Mason to remove his pants and lean over the bed, and when Mason protested, Will heard the terrifyingly intimidating cracking sound from Stanford snapping the belt. Immediately, Mason quieted down and did as he was asked. Did this spoiled child really think it was a good idea to object to Stanford while he had his belt off?

Mason’s cry of pain with the first strike drew a shudder from Will. Poor Mason. He was just a boy. A naïve, narcissistic, spoiled boy, but a boy nonetheless, so did he really deserve such cruel treatment? As the punishment continued, Will counted the lashes, and with each, Mason’s cries grew a bit quieter, his strength being sucked from him. Finally, after fifteen, Stanford emerged from the wordlessly, his cape once more draped around his shoulders and the bottle of whiskey in his hand, six thick, calloused fingers firmly gripping its neck. Before leaving to return the liquor to its rightful place, he looked to Will. Well aware that Mason was in earshot, he growled, “That boy is trouble.”

The instant that Stanford was out of sight, Will scurried into Mason’s room and quietly shut the door behind him. He approached Mason warily. “Sir?”

Mason lay face down on the bed, unmoving, his pants and boxers in a crumpled heap on the floor. Angry raised welts covered his behind and the backs of thighs – the mere sight made Will cringe. He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Master Mason, sir?” he repeated. “Would you… like me to get you anything? Some ice? Or a shower or bath?”

“Bath,” Mason mumbled into the blankets. Will picked up Mason’s pants, folded them neatly, set them on the bed, and went to Mason’s private bathroom, drawing a bath (with extra bubbles, of course). Once he shut the water off, Mason slowly, sluggishly entered the bathroom, clothes already shed. He lowered himself into the bathtub, and Will noticed his eyes were red and puffy from crying just minutes earlier. Sinking into the water, enveloping himself in the clouds of bubbles and steam, he draped one arm over the spotless white cauldron and stared dully at nothing.

“Sir?” Will asked quietly as he pulled out some matches, lighting three black scented candles that were kept beside the sink. An unusual piece of décor, they’d been there since Mason decided that he wanted a gothic, Edgar Allen Poe-esque theme to his living space. A fan of Shakespeare as well, Mason loved the name of the scent, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Will carried the candles to the tub, setting them on three corners on the tub’s ledge, inhaling the rich, woody, and slightly flowery odor that pervaded the room.

Once Mason acknowledged Will’s presence, facing him with glazed-over eyes, the demon cleared his throat.

“…Why did you steal whiskey from Master Stanford?”

Will wasn’t entirely sure that Mason would answer him. He’d been so quiet since the punishment… But after a long sigh, Mason replied, “It’s supposed to help.”

Intrigued by his vague response, Will cocked his head. “What’s it supposed to help with?”

“You know.” Mason withdrew his hand, submerging it beneath foamy white bubbles. “Stage-fright.”

The servant was aware of Mason’s struggle with getting on stage to perform in their magic shows – he’d occasionally panic, cry, or throw up, and alcohol’s anxiolytic properties would have helped him relax, but… “You don’t have another show until Friday evening, Master, so why steal alcohol now?”

Mason broke eye contact to stare into the mass of bubbles. “It’s the stage-fright when I’m not doing shows. When I’m in bed or studying and it just happens.”

_Oh_. “Do you… mean to say you have anxiety, Master?”

“Anxiety?” Mason sank further into the water. “I read about that in a psychology book… But Great-Uncle Stanford told me it’s just people overreacting. It’s a made-up word for a made-up illness.”

Oh, these Gleeful children… They had no idea that Stanford was poisoning their minds with false information. Will speculated that he’d lie about mental illness so they couldn’t use it as an ‘excuse’ to complain. Furthermore, if either twin had to see a psychologist, they could reveal the physical and psychological abuse that occurred daily in the mansion, and possibly expose Stanford’s embezzlement of the money the twins earned from the Tent of Telepathy. In particular, Stanford wanted Mason to put up a façade of masculinity and inexhaustible power. It was no secret that he wasn’t fond of him, particularly because of his thin stature, tendency to often fall ill, and reluctance to punish Will as often as his sister. Stanford had no interest in raising them to be well-rounded, kind adults – he only desired them to be sycophantic servants to help him gain more power.

“I don’t have anxiety,” Mason repeated, sitting up to weakly glare at Will when he noticed how quiet Will was. “Just… stage-fright.”

Moving slowly, as if Mason were a frightened and cornered animal, Will knelt beside the tub. “If you’re experiencing ‘stage-fright’ when you’re not about to go on stage… That sounds like anxiety,” he explained. “You get a panicked feeling, no? It’s hard to breathe? Paranoia? Nausea?” When Mason nodded reluctantly, Will confirmed, “Regardless of what your great-uncle tells you, you have anxiety. It’s real, and you’re not overreacting. I understand that the alcohol sedates you, but you can’t steal from Master Stanford again, lest he give you a worse punishment.”

Mason was an awful person, that was for certain, but Will genuinely felt sympathetic. Mason needed proper guidance. Beating him with a belt would teach him a lesson, but didn’t address _why_ he thought he needed to steal. With Mason’s attention captured, he added, “Perhaps I can get a prescription for you in secret. I’m sure anxiety medication would help. Master Stanford won’t approve, given what he thinks of mental illnesses, but I have ways of hiding it from him.”

Mason swallowed as he stared at Will. No longer Will’s cruel, apathetic Master, he was a hopeful, yet frightened and vulnerable, fourteen-year-old boy, his mask of indifference scraped from his ashen skin. “Would you do that for me?”

“I would, sir.”

These secret moments that transpired between the demon and the boy, despite Will’s tenderness and Mason exposing his vulnerabilities, hardly changed their relationship. Stanford wanted Mason to be cruel to Will, and so he was, delivering calculated punishments when he saw fit, almost as though he’d either forgotten how much Will helped him, or simply didn’t care. He only let his guard down when he had no other choice: while having a panic attack and needing Will to fetch his medicine, when waking from a nightmare and wanting to be comforted until he fell asleep, or needing someone to complain to about the way he was treated by Stanford. Will learned to fear Mason just as he feared Mabel and Stanford. He couldn’t expect Mason to be kind to him, and understood that angering him meant punishment no matter what. He received no thanks for acting as Mason’s caretaker when Stanford was too neglectful to help him.

* * *

 

_An angel_ , Will repeated to himself as he lay on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He was sure of it: he’d encountered an angel. Perhaps Dipper Pines was an angel, too. Maybe he was already dead, now in heaven, cared for by these saints who called themselves ‘Pines.’ It made sense, didn’t it? They looked exactly like the two whom he harbored feelings for, yet they were so much kinder… They didn’t hit him or insult him, and Mabel Pines even told him his eye was beautiful. The Gleeful twins would never do such things. One hand ventured up to his eyepatch as he wondered if he had to wear it around the Pines at all. But, just in case, they secretly thought it was disgusting, he’d leave it on.

He was nearly certain that Mabel wouldn’t lie about liking the galaxy in his eye, and he had no reason to be wary of Dipper (he’d proven himself to be a wonderful person when he stood up for Will at the dinner table), but he remained wary of Ford Pines. He _seemed_ nice enough but then again, Stanford Gleeful often put on a façade for guests, and Ford Pines could easily be the same type of person.

Now, Will was alone in the living room, gazing at the lamp at the end of the couch, the dim yellow glow oddly comforting. Should he be lonely? Indeed, he craved the soft voices and kind words of the Pines twins, and yet… found himself feeling as though he were surrounded by their warmth simply by existing in their home. How odd.

As he lay awake in the living room, it struck him that he owed them for their generosity. Keeping the ice on his jaw, he rose from the couch, glancing around. They could stand to have their house cleaned. Not to suggest that they lived in filth, but it wouldn’t hurt to tidy up the place – windows needed cleaning, tables needed dusting, and the floors should be swept… If he had time, he could take down the peeling wallpaper in the kitchen, too. It was unsightly and outdated. Oh, how happy the Pines would be to wake up and find that Will repaid them for letting him stay the night! As he located a broom and dustpan, he pondered if all angels had curly brown hair and brown eyes.

* * *

 

Dipper and Mabel woke up at 7 AM, much earlier than usual to bid farewell to Will before he had to return to his own dimension, but much to their disappointment, Will had already vanished. After they realized he was gone, something else caught their attention. The downstairs of the shack was absolutely immaculate. No longer plagued by dust and dirt, the hardwood floors and baseboards shone, and the carpets didn’t have single crumb on them, even in front of the television. The throw blanket on the couch was neatly folded and draped over the cushions, the television was dusted, shoes were organized in straight rows by the door… Upon entering the kitchen, the odor of chemical cleaner with a hint of citrus told them that the countertops and sink had been cleaned too. Dipper picked up a small note written in neat cursive from the kitchen table, reading it aloud to his sister.

“Dear Pines, I am very appreciative of your generosity. Consider the cleaning payment for allowing me to overstay my welcome. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to wash the couch cushions. I feared the noise from the washer would wake you. And to Mr. Stanford and Stanley Pines, if you’d like, I will replace the kitchen wallpaper next time I visit. Your friend, Will Cipher.”

Dipper smiled. “Look, he dotted his ‘i’s with triangles. How cute is that?”

Mabel was too occupied admiring the clean kitchen. “Will did all this?” she gasped. “While injured? That’s insane! We gotta tell him next time he’s over that he doesn’t have to do this!”

“Yeah, but… He’s better at cleaning than any of us,” Dipper said, then joked, “Maybe we should hire him.”

While Mabel and Dipper prepared breakfast (fruit and some doughnuts), Ford and Stan made their way to the kitchen. Ford was groggy, going straight for the coffee-maker, but Stan immediately saw a change in the house. “Did you two do all this while we were asleep?” he asked, hands on his hips. “This is the cleanest the kitchen’s been in years!”

“It was Will,” Dipper explained, handing the note to Stan. Once Ford had a few sips of black coffee, he trudged over to his brother’s side to read the note, too.

“That’s quite impressive,” he remarked. “I’ll thank him when I see him again. And I’ll tell him that I would appreciate having the wallpaper replaced – it’s as old as the house itself.”

Dipper slyly glanced at his grunkles. “You know,” he began. “I could thank him for you right now, if you let Bill take me to Will’s dimension.”

Immediately and firmly, Ford said, “Absolutely not. That place is dangerous. We’ve been over this.” He sat down with his coffee, sipping it leisurely.

“For once, my brother is right,” Stan added. “We’re gonna prioritize your safety over Will’s; you’re our family, and he’s not.”

Thankfully, like how Stan stepped in to defend his brother, Mabel defended Dipper. “But don’t you feel bad for Will? The Gleeful twins broke his jaw yesterday and told him his galaxy eye is ugly! I think Dipper’s right. You should let him help Will!”

“Mabel.” Ford addressed her sternly. “Perhaps you’ll understand if you ever have your own children, nieces, or nephews, but Stan and I prioritize you over anyone else, and I won’t allow you to argue with that. We want you to be safe.”

Mabel quieted down, and although Dipper insisted, Ford was just as stubborn, admitting that he felt sorry for Will but didn’t think it was worth risking his life to try and help him.

After breakfast, Dipper pulled his sister into their room and shut the door. “I can’t believe Bill’s not allowed to take us to the Gleefuls’ dimension,” he said glumly. “I love our grunkles, but geez… Will really needs our help.”

“They had a point,” Mabel said. “If you nearly died last time… Why are you smiling?”

Dipper’s sulky expression had become a mischievous grin within seconds. “Bill’s not allowed to take us there,” he said, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “But they didn’t say anything about Will taking us.”

Mabel, simultaneously concerned about the result of disobeying their grunkles and proud of her brother for finding a loophole, said, “Dipper, they’re not gonna let us do that, either.”

The boy was already packing for their upcoming trip to the other dimension, throwing belongings into a messenger bag. A hunting knife, his camera, spare clothes… “We’ll go in secret. Stan and Ford don’t have to know we’re gone.”

“This is a horrible idea.”

“Are you in or not?”

“Of course I’m in, Dipshit. Here, put my cardigan in there, too…”

* * *

 

Breakfast was, as usual, miserable for Will. Everyone was tired and grumpy, including him, but this morning was particularly difficult. Although his nose was straightened and healed, his missing tooth had nearly regenerated, and his bruises were nearly nonexistent, everything still ached, and he missed the Pines family. All of this made it difficult to put up with the twins’ teasing. “What did Dipper say about your fucked-up face?” Mabel asked with a sneering grin.

Will sighed softly. “I passed out as soon as I arrived, ma’am. When I saw Dipper Pines, he just said he was glad you didn’t kill me.”

“Didn’t he say you were hideous?” Mason jeered. Will thought it would have been funny if he spat in Mason’s coffee earlier.

“He did not, sir. Neither did Mabel Pines.”

“Really.” Mason fixed Will with a mockingly curious gaze. “You’re sure they didn’t say anything behind your back while you were out of it?”

“…No, sir. I’m not.”

Mabel then made disgusting kissing sounds. “Did you confess your love for Dipper.”

_Inhale. Exhale_. “No, ma’am.”

“Boo. You should go back and ask him to marry you,” she said with a mock pout.

Fed up with the teasing, Will said curtly, “I’ll consider it, ma’am,” before swiftly returning to the kitchen.

Although he could no longer see them, Will could hear clearly hear Stanford’s deep voice addressing the wins. “You two. Stop fooling around and finish breakfast. Mabel, once you’re done, we’re going to the basement so you can help me with a project. Mason, you’re to continue studying today. Perhaps you and Will can also brainstorm ideas for your shows.”

Mabel’s response was cheerful acknowledgement, but Mason dared to question Stanford. “Are you sure you don’t need an extra hand with your ‘project,’ Great-Uncle Stanford?”

“I’m quite sure, Mason. You’ve been slacking off more than usual lately, and you need to catch up with your sister.”

Again with comparing Mason to Mabel. The boy ordinarily kept quiet, but this morning, he’d found the courage to confront Stanford. Oh, dear. Will would have to step out there and help him, wouldn’t he? “Mabel slacks off more than I do,” Mason pointed out. “She spends all her time doing her hair and makeup.”

“She also learns new things faster than you. Finish your breakfast, boy.”

Before Mason could retaliate, Will reentered the dining room, attempting to diffuse the tension in the room by quickly asking, “Is everyone enjoying breakfast? Master Stanford, would you like more coffee?”

His gaze transfixed on Mason, Stanford wordlessly handed his mug to Will, letting him take it to the kitchen to refill it. This gave Mason a moment to rethink the comeback that would have no doubt earned him a slap across the face, and he settled down, finishing his breakfast in silence.

Their empty plates were cleared from the table, and Will watched Mason trudge upstairs while Mabel happily followed Stanford into the basement, disappearing into its inconspicuous entrance. As he gazed at the basement’s door, he wondered if Mason had set foot on those stairs since Stanford returned through the portal. Stanford had never invited him, and Mason likely feared punishment if Stanford caught him sneaking down there. As the years passed, Stanford’s bias against Mason grew, and he trained Mabel to be his apprentice, preferring her charismatic nature over Mason’s quieter disposition.

Will did sympathize with Mason for what Stanford put him through, so he followed Mason to the library after washing dishes. He was pulling his favorite copy of Hamlet off the shelf, and the servant immediately recognized that the dark green book was what he read when he was in a bad mood.

Stanford would discourage him from reading so much fiction, stressing the importance of expanding out into a variety of academic subjects to achieve the most well-rounded education possible, but Mason, while intelligent, didn’t care for chemistry or math or history. Although he enjoyed psychology, he much preferred works of literature. It worried Will a bit that he only liked darker stories – Hamlet, The Raven, and Frankenstein came to mind – but he was happy reading them, and Will didn’t want to tell him to read a textbook instead.

As expected, the instant Mason noticed Will, he lashed out. “What do you want?” he asked sourly. “Come to tell me you’re going to visit Dipper Pines again?”

“No, sir,” Will replied. “I only wanted to ask if you’re feeling alright, and if you need me to fetch your medicine…”

“I’ll get it myself if I need it,” Mason snapped, getting comfortable at a table. “Go do your chores or visit Dipper Pines or whatever.”

Why was Mason repeatedly bringing up Dipper? Unless… “Sir? You’re not jealous of him, are you?”

“What?” Mason smirked, then laughed out loud. “What the fuck? No, of course not. Why would I be jealous of that scruffy child?”

Will shrugged. “I just noticed that you keep bringing him up, and you get upset about my visits to his dimension, sir. I’m sorry for insinuating that you might be jealous. I’ll be leaving now.” Exiting the library, he could feel Mason’s haunting blue eyes boring holes into his back: a warning to keep his distance from Dipper.

Arrival in the other dimension immediately replaced Will’s vague sense of dread and discomfort with one of tranquility. He knocked on the door to the Mystery Shack, and his brown-eyed angel opened it and embraced him tightly. “Welcome back, Will!” she said brightly. “You look better! Your jaw isn’t swollen!”

He returned her enthusiasm, replying, “Yes, ma’am! Since I was able to relax last night, thanks to your kindness, I found the energy to heal it quickly!”

“Oh, and thanks for cleaning the house!” Mabel added. “You did an awesome job. Stan and Ford are super impressed!”

Will blinked. “Do you want me to finish cleaning? I can do the upstairs as well-“

“No! No, you really don’t have to,” she said quickly, and held the door open wider, inviting him in. “You’re our guest. You don’t have to do anything for us!”

Will smiled bashfully as he stepped inside. “Not to be rude, but… Cleaning is the least I can do for your family after you’ve all been so kind to me. I owe you.”

Dipper was coming downstairs, catching the last part of what Will was saying. “Nah, Will. You don’t owe us anything. Just take care of yourself and try not to get beat up again. That makes us worry about you.” He approached Will, hugged him too, and grinned. “Also, welcome back!”

Will smiled as well, pleased to be surrounded by his angel, but his expression fell within seconds when he saw his blond counterpart peek his head around the corner. He sighed, “Hello, Bill.”

Bill grinned with sharp white fangs. “Hey, buddy! Can I have a hug, too?”

“Don’t you have a dimension to take over?” Will inquired, crossing his arms. 

Bill imitated him. “Hey, you know I’m done trying to do that. Too much effort.”

“You’re too lazy.”

“I never said that!”

Will reached out and took Dipper’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s go somewhere else. I’m not in the mood to deal with Bill.”

“Rude,” Bill huffed.

Dipper gladly went along with Will’s suggestion, leading him upstairs. “Let’s hang out in my room. How much time do you have here?”

“About three hours, sir.”

Mabel sprinted past them. “Ooh! Let’s play a board game!” she shouted, almost a little too eager to set up a game of Yahtzee on the floor of the bedroom. She briefly explained the rules to Will, who’d never played before, and they began.

“Haven’t you played with the Gleeful twins?” Mabel asked curiously, dropping the dice into the cup.

“We don’t play games together,” Will said softly, watching her roll the dice. “No board games, video games… They don’t even watch television. They’re quite… Sheltered. And serious. They spend their time studying or preparing for magic shows. Master Stanford discourages everything else.”

Mabel frowned. “That sucks for them. Stan and Ford loves games and TV. Ford and Dipper play that fantasy nerd game a lot- What is it, Dipper? Dragons and More Dragons?”

“Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons,” Dipper corrected her. “I’ll have you know, it’s a game for smart and creative people!”

“Like I said – a nerd game.”

Will smiled as he listened to their bickering. It was so affectionate, rather than concealing maliciousness and jealousy. Once they ended their petty fight over the definition of ‘nerd’ and whether or not Dipper qualified as one, Dipper lowered his voice and turned to Will. “Hey, so… I had something serious to talk about with you. Mabel and I wanted to come to your dimension and figure out a way to help you… keep you safe from abuse, you know? But Ford said Bill’s not allowed to take me to there anymore. Doesn’t want me ‘endangering myself.’ The loophole is that he didn’t say _you_ can’t take us… so, could you?”

Will blinked. “I… I’m afraid that’s not a good idea, sir. I hate to say no, but Master Stanford would…” He swallowed. “Master Stanford’s planning something. I don’t know what, but I don’t want you to be around when he executes his plan.”

“…Oh.”

Dipper’s disappointment struck Will with a strong sensation of guilt. “…But perhaps I can invite you over when Master Stanford is out of the house?” he offered, which seemed to cheer Dipper up. Will added, “You won’t be able to protect me from punishment, but you’d certainly be good company. I enjoy your presence.”

“Hey, you know what?” Dipper grinned. “I enjoy your presence too.” Dipper and Will shared a glance and an awkward smile, interrupted by Mabel.

“Your turn, Dipper,” she said loudly. “If you don’t go, I’m gonna claim your turn as my own and then I’ll get two turns in a row.”

Dipper glared. “You can’t do that. Nothing in the rules says you can do that.” He picked up the cup and dice, pausing when he heard Will giggling.

“You two… You’re so funny. You fight over trivial things, and then you go right back to being friendly.”

“Of course we do. We’re twins! We’re pros at fighting and getting over it two seconds later,” Mabel boasted. “I mean, we’re stuck with each other for the rest of our lives, so we don’t really have any choice about getting along.”

Will’s amused smile began to falter. “Yes, I suppose that’s how it should be.... It’s just so different from Master and Madam’s fights. They insult each other because they genuinely don’t like each other. They feign friendship when they’re not fighting.”

“They should learn to get along,” Mabel declared. “Your twin should be your best friend for life!”

The demon’s gaze dropped to the game’s score cards. “…Except Madam is supposed to live much longer than Master.”

“Is he sick?” Dipper asked quietly. “Is that why he’s so pale and weird?”

With a nod, Will replied, “Since birth, he’s had an illness – common variable immune deficiency – that affects his immune system. He gets sick often and avoids going outside as much as possible. We don’t talk about it much, but… He’s not expected to live past fifty.”

A silence fell over the room as Mabel and Dipper stared at Will, stunned. “Geez,” Dipper said after a moment. “That’s unfortunate. Not like that changes my opinion of him, I think he’s garbage for the way he treats you, but… my condolences.”

“He doesn’t like to be pitied,” Will told him. “But perhaps he’d appreciate your support. Stanford treats him very poorly, and it’s partially because of his tendency to fall ill.” The twins’ curious gazes trained on Will, he continued. “He favors Madam over him. He praises her constantly and even asked her to be his apprentice, while Master is berated for not studying enough or not being cruel enough to me. He hits Master and sometimes disciplines him very harshly, yet doesn’t do the same to Madam. I think that Master Stanford views him as useless if he only has twenty or thirty years left.”

“That’s heavy,” Mabel breathed, now too wrapped up in the conversation to care whose turn it was.

“That’s horrible,” Dipper reiterated. “But why does Stanford Gleeful want them to be cruel to you?”

Will fidgeted. “…I couldn’t say. It must be a display of power, and whoever’s stronger wins his favor, which Madam has done.”

Dipper frowned. “That sounds really shitty. He should just let Mason be himself.”

“Master Stanford isn’t interested in raising the children to be good people. He wants a perfect apprentice, not someone who might hold him back with the need to be taken care of.”

“Maybe we could-“ Dipper broke off, hearing an odd, yet familiar, sound from behind him, and when a soft green glow fell over the room, he knew what was behind him. An interdimensional portal. He turned slowly, curiosity becoming perplexity and fear when his gaze fell upon the portal in front of the bedroom door.

Mason Gleeful stepped out from it, dressed in a black button-down shirt, black slacks, and black leather shoes, his amulet worn as a bolo tie. His icy blue eyes glaring at the three, he said spitefully, “Will, you’re coming back home with me _now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about double the length of previous ones, so I'll have fewer chapters with more words within each.
> 
> HUGE thank-you to my regular commenters! Energywitch, XIntensity_FallsX, and Berrybanana! Your comments always brighten my day! All the love this story gets is incredible, especially because I don't consider myself a writer (I draw more than I write, and I make art to accompany my story at http://cerisia.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I also want to say that I've been focusing a lot on Mason lately! I'm trying to establish his character so the readers can get to know him a little better. Maybe he's redeemable? Do you guys think Mabel Gleeful is, too? I promise I'll add sections solely about her like I've been doing with Mason. I'm very excited to delve deeper into Will's complicated history with Stanford Gleeful as well.
> 
> Character fun facts (just for this story. Any headcanons you guys have are cool too!): Will and Bill consider themselves agender because they're not really human. Dipper's bisexual, Mabel's (mostly) straight, Stan's straight, and Ford's asexual/demisexual. As for the Gleefuls... You'll learn more about them later!


	12. Loose Tongue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned that this chapter contains mild sibling incest and references to attraction to minors/pedophilia.

Will leapt to his feet at the sight of his master, shaking hands gesturing wildly while he struggled to explain his situation to an obviously disinterested Mason. “I’m sorry Master I’ll get right on it but the thing is, Mr. Dipper and Ms. Mabel, they invited me to play a game with them and-“

“Enough, Will,” interrupted Mason, and his servant immediately silenced himself. “I didn’t come here so you could tell me about what you’re doing with these… _children_.” He swept his gaze over the Pines wins, scrunching up his nose in disdain as he regarded them. “I’ve only come to bring you home. You’re needed at the house.”

Will regained his composure, standing before Mason with his head bowed in submission. “Has Master Stanford summoned me, sir?”

“ _I’m_ summoning you,” Mason snapped, taking a few slow steps further into the room, curiously eyeing his surroundings. “I hope you’re not implying that I don’t have enough authority to summon you myself, William.”

“Yes, sir- I mean, no sir. Yes, I’m not implying that.” Will’s nervous blue eye followed Mason as he examined Dipper’s dresser. While Mabel and Dipper got off the floor, also watching him, he picked up a pill bottle, turning it over in his palm to read the label, momentarily forgetting about Will.

Dipper walked up to Mason confidently, but found himself too frightened to snatch the bottle from his hands (after he and Mabel Gleeful nearly skewered him with daggers earlier), so he cleared his throat to get his attention and said, “Put that down, please. That’s for my anxiety.”

“Anxiety?” Mason studied the label for a moment longer before a devilish smirk turned up the corners of his mouth. “You say you have anxiety? That’s pathetic. You know it’s not real, right?”

Mabel narrowed her brown eyes and stormed up to Mason, eager to defend her brother. “Anxiety’s real, you jerk. Dipper was diagnosed by a professional when he was younger. If you’re gonna bully him for it, you’re signing up to take me on, too.” She jabbed a finger into Mason’s chest, and in turn, he swatted her hand away.

“Very well,” he replied as the Big Dipper birthmark on his forehead began to glow an eerie, luminescent blue-

“But Master Mason… You also have anxiety.”

Mason dragged his furious glare over to Will, the light on his forehead dying as he strode over to Will, raised his hand, and struck him across the face with his palm. The clapping sound that echoed throughout the room made both Pines twins gasp aloud. Will stumbled back, and Mabel rushed to his side to shield him while Dipper grabbed Mason’s wrist and wrestled with him until he had him pinned against the wall. Mason only weakly struggled – not that he was incapable of shoving Dipper away, but he didn’t want to waste his strength, so he focused narrow blue eyes on his doppelganger. “What the hell was that for?” Dipper demanded, spit hitting Mason’s cheek. The Gleeful boy grimaced.

“It was for lying about me,” he growled.

From a few feet away, Will raised his voice. “I didn’t lie, sir,” he said, but shrank back when Mason’s glare hit him. “You… you can trust the Pines twins to understand,” he squeaked, and went quiet again.

Will’s words gave both Dipper and Mason pause. Dipper gazed at Mason, pondering if he had an anxiety disorder as Will said – if he did, he certainly didn’t show it. His neutral, dull expression that he maintained unless angered never gave Dipper the impression that he was the type to be anxious or paranoid like he was.

Mason’s gaze shifted down as he thought of the second thing his servant told him echoed in his mind.

_You can trust the Pines twins._

“Trust no one,” the journal whispered to him in black cursive, gracefully painted with a fountain pen onto yellowed pages. His navy-blue and silver bible that had guided him for the past seven years never led him astray. If Mason was to ever become what Stanford wanted him to, it was imperative that he follow the instructions of the journal. He didn’t even trust his own sister, so how could he trust these children with his secrets?

Mason glanced back up at Dipper, and swiftly shoved him back, stepping away from the wall and straightened the wrinkles in his clothes. “Will, let’s get going,” he commanded, holding out his hand, a glowing green portal appearing before it. “We’ll discuss your punishment for lying.”

Will bit his lip and moved toward him, only to feel a hand on his wrist. Mabel was holding him back.

“Don’t make him go!” the girl insisted. “He’s happy here! And we were in the middle of a game!”

Mason scowled. “How old are you?” he inquired, sizing her up. “You look and act like a child. _Games?_ Seriously? My servant doesn’t have time for games.”

Mabel returned the scowl. “For your information, I’m nineteen! And there’s always time for games! Give Will a few more hours here, at least!” Her expression suddenly shifted from defiant to confused when Will pulled his own arm away from her, walking willingly to his master’s side. “…Will?”

“I have to, ma’am,” Will said softly. “I’m sorry. It’s part of our contract. I… I’ll try to come back and visit you soon. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Will entered the portal first, head hung, and immediately before Mason stepped through, Dipper spoke up. “Hey… Mason? Do you actually have anxiety? If so, we could talk about it. I know what it’s like, so-“

“It’s none of your business what I have and don’t have,” Mason interrupted coldly. He vanished through the portal, and seconds later, it closed. Mabel looked helplessly to her brother, who simply gazed at the empty space where the portal disappeared, right over the unfinished game of Yahtzee, dice spilt from the vermillion cup.

* * *

 

Each summer, she updated her stage costume for the Tent of Telepathy, playing with all sorts of themes and fresh ideas to keep the audience interested. She started with a modest long blue skirt and blouse. Everything had to be blue. It was their _thing_. Blue attire to match their blue tent and blue gems and blue eyes. Once she decided that her first outfit was too plain, she tried a country inspired outfit, complete with leather knee-high boots with turquoise details. That was when Mason made a bolo tie out of his gem (after she insisted). Quickly, she grew bored with the look, and they tried Vaudevillian costumes. She wore a train of peacock feathers and an iridescent teal dress to match. Mason looked stellar in a pinstripe suit and a silk teal tie. To raise more money, they had their photos taken in outfits, made prints, autographed them, and sold them behind the tent after shows. They were a hit – particularly the ones of her with her thigh peering through the slit in her dress.

Stanford, looking over a chart of the photograph sales, pointed out that their audience liked seeing skin. Mason quietly murmured that she was only fifteen, but his voice was drowned out by his sister’s enthusiastic agreement. Anything to get more money, and anything to please Stanford. The next year, she and her brother donned all black to add an air of mystery to their show. Doll-like, her dress earned a lot of attention from the men in the audience, attracting them with ruffles and a short, puffy skirt. Mason watched as she basked in the attention. After the show, she spoke sweetly to them when she signed the photographs. However, on the drive home, she ripped off her headband and cursed and declared how utterly disgusted with men she was. They kept trying to look up my skirt, she complained. Then why did you wear such a short one? Mason countered. When they returned to the mansion, she didn’t utter a word about it to Stanford. He praised them both for performing well and encouraged them to keep it up. She smiled brightly at the praise. Mason watched her.

She could afford brand-name clothes and cosmetics and perfumes, and she flaunted it. She didn’t have full access to the money they earned, but Stanford occasionally let her borrow his credit card. While Mason was reading, she stood in front of him, raised her leg, and placed her foot in his lap. “Like my new shoes? Tiffany blue with Swarovski crystals. They’re Chanel.”

“They’re nice,” Mason said. The indifference in his voice couldn’t be more obvious. “Did you have to suck Stanford’s dick to get him to buy them for you?”

In spite of his snide remarks, she loved to strut around in fancy clothes. What was more fun was getting dolled up and calling Will into her room, where she teased him cruelly, kissing his cheek or forehead but never his lips (he was a demon, after all – disgusting) before pushing him down and digging a stiletto heel into his thigh hard enough to leave dime-sized circular bruises. Keep him in his place, Stanford instructed the twins, and that’s what she did: she taught him that he shouldn’t even dream of being with a girl like her. She was too pretty for him, too rich for him, and inherently superior. She was a human, and he was just a demon.

Will was useful for only two things: being a servant and being a guinea pig. Stanford occasionally took his niece into the basement, into his secret lab to teach her a myriad of research methods and scientific procedures combined with magic, and if they needed to test a chemical or borrow a humanoid intestine or liver, they used Will.

Strapped to a table in the center of the lab, Will was rendered completely helpless with the assistance of cold steel shackles. Mabel hopped up on the table, sitting beside him, slender legs daintily crossed while Stanford prepared the surgical instruments. “You look terrified,” she teased, reaching over and cupping his cheek, fingernails catching in his soft blue hair. “What do you have to be afraid of? We’re only going to take a couple things out of you. You can grow them back.” She smirked. “Oh, you’re scared because there’s no anesthesia? You’ll be fine, Will.”

“My dear,” Stanford said, turning around with a silver tray of tools, polydactyl hands concealed by white nitrile gloves. “Off the table, please. Put on gloves and tie your hair back so we can begin.”

Stanford let her make the incisions in Will’s stomach, overseeing her work while he covered Will’s mouth with his hand, muffling shrieks of agony that poured from it so Mabel could focus. With his constant struggling, she found it difficult to make clean cuts, so she glanced up at her great-uncle. “Can we put him under?”

“You need to learn how to work under any circumstances. We’ll pretend that anesthesia isn’t available.”

Will squeezed his tear-filled blue eye shut, shaking his head furiously. From beneath his eyepatch, a glistening black liquid oozed out.

Mabel scrunched up her nose in disgust at the sight of it, but did her best to continue the surgery. Stanford said that the ink-like fluid escaped the galaxy when Will was in extreme pain. Why couldn’t he cry like normal? The black stuff was slimy and hard to clean up (yet oddly, it smelled like petrichor?).

She considered herself lucky that she had such a fantastic teacher. Mabel wasn’t nearly as studious as her brother, but Stanford had chosen _her_ to be his apprentice. Mason just couldn’t measure up to her charisma and enthusiasm to learn. He _hated_ her for it. Furthering the distance between them, Mason often expressed his abhorrence for Stanford’s choice of apprentice.

At age sixteen, she entered the library, and when Mason saw her short dress, stockings, and high heels, he remarked dryly, “Do you wear such things to express your salacious desires to suitors?”

“No,” she replied, matching his tone. She strolled up to him, leaning over the armchair he lounged in. “And did you just make that word up? ‘Salacious?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

He scowled up at her. “You don’t know?”

“You made it up.”

“’Salacious’ means ‘lustful,’ you half-witted cunt, and if you had ever picked up a book, you might know that. Honestly, you have the vocabulary of a child. It’s a wonder Stanford wants you as an apprentice.”

Mabel placed both hands on each arm of the chair, eyes gleaming as she leaned in even closer to her brother. “You’re jealous.”

He closed his book, studying her. “Could be.”

Her mouth twisted up with mischief, and her soft, willowy fingers resting on her brother’s gaunt cheek, she murmured, “Are you jealous because Stanford gives me all the attention? Or are you upset that you get to spend less time with your dear sister?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Mason muttered, glaring right into her lustrous blue eyes, leaning in just slightly. Mabel took that as an invitation, meeting him partway with a soft kiss on his lips.

They pulled away only briefly, as if to ask each other what they were doing, before trying it again while one of Mason’s hands went up to hold the back of her head. She soon settled down on his lap, skirt flared out over her thighs.

Once their lips parted, Mabel smirked, eyelashes fluttering, but Mason averted his gaze. “You _are_ a whore,” he told her, wiping his lips, not surprised to see lipstick coming off on his fingers.

“You’re insulting me? You just kissed your sister,” Mabel pointed out, placing both hands on his shoulders to hold him against the chair.

“You just kissed your brother.”

“You started it.”

“You got on my lap.” He nudged her, and she slid off grudgingly, smoothing down her skirt. “What did you come here for in the first place?”

She shrugged. “Bored.” She glanced at his book, which had slid off the chair while she was in his lap. “What’s that, anyways?”

Mason picked it up, showing her its cover. “A compiled history of the Gleeful family and their accomplishments,” he explained, and began leafing through the pages. “Our grandfather typed it up and put it together. It’s absolutely fascinating. It has old photographs of our ancestors, newspaper clippings from a century ago, the history of our current wealth, and there’s a chart of our family tree.” He went to the index, searching for the specific page number. “One moment, I need to show you this. There’s something strange about it. I think our family has a history of-“

“Boring,” Mabel interrupted, eyes rolling. “You have fun with your family history stuff. I’m gonna go fuck around with Will.” She waved and strolled out of the library.

Age seventeen: Stanford invited her to a gala. Eager to seize any possible opportunity to dress up and mingle, she agreed, and he bought her an ocean-blue charmeuse gown that he said complimented her eyes. When she asked what her brother would wear to the event, Stanford replied that Mason had come down with bronchitis (“Again?” she sighed) and would be unable to attend. Ordinarily, Will was their chauffeur, but since he had to stay home and take care of the boy, Stanford drove himself and Mabel to the venue. He escorted her into the ballroom, introducing her to his colleagues who worked in scientific fields. He told them that she was officially his apprentice, and they told her how privileged she was to work with an incredibly influential researcher. Then, they told her she was gorgeous, and she inherited good genes. She smiled awkwardly to the significantly older men and wandered off to get a glass of water. She stood near Stanford and his friends – not close enough to hear each word of their conversations, but close enough to see them glancing at her occasionally, gesturing, and laughing. She inched closer, hoping it didn’t look like she was eavesdropping. Then, she heard a stout bald man ask Stanford, “Is she available?”

She expected her great-uncle to react with disgust. This man, older than Stanford, was asking if she was single? What the hell? However, Stanford responded calmly, and his answer sparked confusion in her. “Unfortunately for you, she’s not. She’s beautiful though, isn’t she?”

“Especially for her age,” the bald man added, raising his champagne glass as if toasting to his disturbing interest in the girl. “She’s stunning. Wish my wife had that hourglass figure.”

When she saw Stanford merely nod in agreement, her skin began to crawl, and she made a beeline for the restroom, too uneasy to listen to any more of the conversation. She’d heard people talk about her like that for years. She was used to it, brushing off sexual comments and proposals for sex, but Stanford’s calm agreements sent a chill down her spine. He had to be joking. At this very moment, he should be telling his colleague that he was messing with him and he should stay away from his niece.

At least he lied about her being single. She’d never had a boyfriend in her life (although she’d kissed Gideon Pines once, that didn’t count). Stanford told both twins not to get involved with people of a lower social standing than them, but since they were the wealthiest family in Gravity Falls, neither Mabel nor Mason had the opportunity to meet potential partners.

After ten minutes of convincing herself that Stanford eventually told the man off for the comment about her waist, she emerged from the bathroom, returning to her place near Stanford’s group. Thankfully, they were now discussing future research plans., but she still caught a few men sparing glances in her direction. She glared back, letting this be her reminder that all men, regardless of age and status, only wanted sex and nothing else. Fucking disgusting. They should all be sterilized.

Upon returning home from the event, she went to Mason’s room to complain to him about the night’s events, but he stopped her, saying hoarsely, “At least you got to go. You’re lucky you’re not sick all the time… Stanford wouldn’t have invited me, anyways. He likes you way more.” He held a handkerchief to his face, coughing into it, specks of blood staining pristine white cotton. So much for that. Mabel left the room swiftly, going to her own to change out of her dress, but not before pausing to inspect her figure in the mirror.

She had curves, certainly, and a slim waist that was thanks to her exercise routine. While feeling a bit self-conscious, she reminded herself that Stanford often praised her for her maturity. Being an adult was something she should be proud of, so she lifted her chin, smiled at her reflection, and changed into a nightgown, reassuring herself that all that mattered was living up to Stanford’s expectations, and she should ignore the weird things other people said about her.

* * *

 

Will was shoved against the wall, whimpering when Mason leaned in, glaring at him. “Why did you tell them?” he hissed. “It’s supposed to be a secret!”

“I-I…” Terrified, Will was at a loss for words. “I’m sorry, sir! I just- I know that the Pines twins won’t- they’ll be nice about it, they’ll understand, unlike Master Stanford…”

Mason released Will’s shirt collar, only to jerk his knee up between Will’s legs. Nausea and a horrible stinging pain flooded him, and he collapsed, hands delicately cupping the injured area. “You deliberately disobeyed me, you little shit! I told you, I don’t want anyone knowing!” Unsympathetic to Will’s pain, he grabbed him by the hair, dragging him to the middle of his room and putting a foot on his chest, threatening to crush his ribs. “How should I punish you?” he pondered, pushing his weight on his heel. Will felt like he was about to throw up. “I need to ensure that you won’t be telling any more of our secrets.” He stroked his chin, then lifted his foot off of Will. “Get up.”

Will obeyed, hunched over slightly. “Sir…?”

He grasped Will’s wrist and pulled him to the room where they made plans for shows and stored props. He released Will, searched around until he found one of Mabel’s sets of daggers, and pulled one out, showing it to his servant. “Get on your knees.”

Fear tugged at Will’s stomach, but he knelt, his vulnerability in this position putting him ill at ease. “What’s my punishment, sir?” he asked softly.

“Open your mouth,” Mason commanded. “And stick out your tongue.”

_Oh no._

He winced when the blade touched his tongue, and tried to move back, but Mason said firmly, “Hold still, or I’ll end up cutting your lips and gums, too. Might accidentally stab your cheek if you squirm.”

Agony filled Will’s mouth as the knife dug into his tongue, slicing into it, blood spilling out from around the weapon. Will held back tears for as long as possible, but when Mason was halfway through severing his tongue, salty liquid flowed down one cheek, and black ink oozed over the other. Mason wasn’t bothered by it, committed to finishing the punishment. Finally, he cut through the entire thing, tossing the bright red, blood-soaked appendage on the floor. Will’s shaking hands went up to his mouth, trying to stop the blood from flowing down his chin. It had already stained the front of his shirt and splattered on the floor in front of him, and Master and Madam tended to get upset when he spilled too much of his own blood.

Mason found an old rag to wipe off his hands and the knife, glaring at Will as he did so. “Lesson learned? Good. You’re a fucking mess, so clean up and change before I tell you my plan.”

_Plan?_

Will nodded, running from the room, and nearly tripping over his own feet while trying not to let any more blood touch the floor. He went to the bathroom, leaning over the sink, opening his mouth, and letting blood fall from what was left of his tongue. It splattered into the previously spotless white sink. Will reached for the medicine cabinet, pulling out gauze, and shoving some into his mouth to absorb the blood that wouldn’t stop leaking out. Now, he concentrated his magic on his tongue, closing the wound. Doing so quickly was draining, but Master Mason wanted him back as soon as possible. Once the bleeding stopped, he stuck his fingers into his mouth, extracting the bloody gauze and tossing it into the garbage bin. Next, he had to change his clothes and clean the blood he’d left on the floor. It was a tedious task, but doable.

Now wearing all black (in case Master wanted to punish him again – blood was difficult to get out of white shirts), Will returned to Mason, head bowed. He was about to tell him that he’d cleaned up everything, but shut his mouth, realizing that anything he said would sound ridiculous without his entire tongue, and Master would surely mock him for it.

Mason lifted Will’s chin, then stuck his fingers into his mouth, prying open his jaw and looking inside. The demon winced, feeling violated. He could have just asked him to open his mouth. “Good, you healed it. Now, my plan… I needed you back so we could discuss it.” He pulled his hand away, wiping saliva-coated fingers on Will’s shirt. “My sister and I had an idea. We tame Bill Cipher, capture him, and present him to Great-Uncle Stanford. You know just as well as I do that he’d love to have another demon under his control – especially one who isn’t a weak, sniveling little thing like you.”

 _Bill Cipher wouldn’t let you. He knows that the Gleeful family are all manipulative liars. He won’t be tamed by you_. Will kept his gaze level, listening closely to his Master but knowing that his genius plan would inevitably fail due to the nature of Bill.

“However, Mabel’s occupied in the basement with Stanford.” Mason glanced at the doorway, then shifted his gaze back to Will. “So, I’ve got no choice but to carry out the plan without her… and you’re going to help me, Will. You probably know Bill Cipher better than anyone. Tell me, does he care about Dipper or Mabel Pines?”

Will shrugged. _Not really._

“Mm. But could we use either one of them as a hostage?”

He thought for a moment, then nodded and moved his hand. _Maybe?_

Mason ran his hand over his hair, smoothing down the strays. “Is there anything else we could use to lure him in? What does Bill like?”

 _Power._ Will raised his hand, letting a small flame rise from his palm to demonstrate what he meant. Mason watched the flame for a moment, then went to a drawer, pulling out a notepad and pen. “Write,” he ordered, pushing them toward Will.

Hands shaking slightly, he scrawled, “Bill wants power and control. He wants to take over dimensions. Likes chaos. Doesn’t like rules.”

“Is that so?” Mason hummed. “He and Great-Uncle Stanford have a lot in common, then. We’ll tell him to make a deal with Stanford, since they both want more power. Then, we trap him.” He clapped his hands together, as if imagining Bill between his palms.

Will wrote out, “How do we trap him?”

“You can use your magic for that, can’t you?”

Will hesitated. Technically, yes. He could incapacitate Bill, but not if his magic was constantly being drained by the Gleefuls. He tightened his grip on the pen. “I need more magic.”

Mason read the sentence twice before replying, hand going up to the gem he wore around his neck. Years ago, Gideon and Pacifica shattered his and his sister’s gems, and they’d since lost their power. However, Will repaired them and channeled his own magic into them. They were the vessel for the twins’ abilities to use telekinesis and travel between dimensions. “You expect me to give up my share of the magic?” he inquired.

“Master Stanford and Madam can also return some,” Will wrote back.

“No,” Mason said firmly. “This is supposed to be a surprise for Stanford, and I don’t want Mabel realizing we’re doing this! She’ll take all the credit.”

Will thought for a moment, then scribbled something and held up the notepad. “Then you’re out of luck, sir.”

Mason narrowed his eyes, then snatched the notepad from Will’s hand. “Don’t you dare get snarky with me, Will. I need you to figure out a way to trap Bill Cipher. Until then, you’re not allowed to visit the Pines’s dimension. Understand?”

Will’s eye widened and he nodded, shocked at the notion that he was going to be banned from visiting Dipper and Mabel. Now that he’d had a taste of their kindness, he wasn’t sure if he could handle the miserable life as the Gleeful’s servant without them.

* * *

 

Bill wandered into Ford’s lab and draped his arms over the older man’s shoulders. Ford tried to shrug him off, but Bill clearly couldn’t take a hint. “Hey,” said the blond demon, resting his chin in Ford’s voluminous silver hair. “What’s up, Sixer?”

“Leave me alone, I’m busy.”

“Quick question?”

“One question,” Ford sighed.

“How come I never see Pine Tree down here? Isn’t he supposed to be your apprentice or something? Also, holy fuck, your hair is soft. What conditioner do you use?”

Ford set down a stack of papers on his desk. “I said, one question. Which one do you want me to answer?”

“Um… First one,” Bill decided.

“Dipper is indeed my apprentice. However, for now, he has the task of proof-reading these papers for me. In a month or so, he’s going to help me with other things. I’d rather keep him away from the more dangerous jobs while he’s first starting out. Hunting down the paranormal can be risky.”

Bill pressed his nose into Ford’s hair. “Huh. You smell good, by the way.”

“Bill, go find something better to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we get to take a closer look at Mabel. You've gotta wonder, though, what Mason found in that family history book.
> 
> If you've already left Kudos, don't feel shy about showing support by commenting!! I love to hear what you guys think of the story.


	13. Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for 200+ kudos!

He had less than a week to betray Dipper Pines and hand him over to Stanford for whatever diabolical purpose he’d devised, and with Master Mason’s added restriction of not being able to see Dipper until he subdued Bill… Would he be able to accomplish it all in just a few days? Given the stubborn nature of his counterpart, this would prove to be incredibly difficult, and heaven forbid he fail to comply with his masters’ orders. Punishment from Mason would leave him miserable, but in one piece. Punishment from Stanford, on the other hand… Images of pliers, scalpels, and pools of his own blood flashed through his mind, and he shuddered and swatted the thoughts away like flies. He curled up in his bed around a pillow, chewing on his fingernails as he contemplated how he would carry out his orders. Surely, there was some way to coax Bill into, at the very least, humoring Mason. How to sweeten the deal for him, though? Bill wouldn’t do anything unless he benefited from it.

Will rolled over and checked the time: midnight. As much as he craved the peace that sleeping brought him, it was a waste of time, especially when he had to negotiate with Bill. He rolled out of bed, dressed himself, and opened a portal, stepping through to find Bill.

When not bothering the Pines family, Bill was in the dimension that Will often used to get away from the Gleeful family for a while. At this hour, when the Pines family was asleep, there was no doubt that Bill was here, and Will found him quickly, walking up to him with a slight smile and a friendly wave. After using what little magic he had left, he’d healed his tongue enough to speak (but it felt bruised when he spoke). “Evening,” he greeted. “How are you?”

“Could be better,” Bill sighed. “Ford literally _refuses_ to make out with me, like what the hell? He was so eager to shove his tongue down my throat forty years ago. What’s up with that? Is it my breath?” He turned and breathed hot air in Will’s face, and the blue-haired demon wrinkled his nose and turned away.

“I don’t think it’s your breath,” he muttered. “It’s probably because you lied to him for years and ultimately betrayed him and tried to take over the dimension. Why do you want to kiss him, anyways?”

Bill smirked. “Why do you think? His flesh has aged, sure, but he’s cute as ever. He’s still got functioning parts, if you know what I mean. Oh, that’s right… You can’t imagine why anyone would like any version of Stanford, because you and Stanford Gleeful-“

“Correct,” Will interrupted. “Can we talk about what I came here for, please? I don’t want to hear about your Stanford Pines.”

“Yeah, I guess. What’s up, Blue?”

Will inhaled and exhaled slowly. Bill knew precisely how to get on his nerves – using ridiculous nicknames. “Master Mason wants to use you to impress Master Stanford. He asked me to help lure you in and trap you, but I’m not sure how he expects me to do that. Unfortunately, he’ll punish me if I don’t, so… Do you mind helping out? You just have to go over there and cooperate with him. Once he takes you to Stanford, you can get out of there. You don’t have to use any magic, or make any deals. Just show up and make Master Mason happy.”

Bill stroked his chin, eyeing Will. “What’s in it for me?”

“What do you want?”

The blond swiped his tongue over his gleaming fangs. Will kept his gaze neutral, undisturbed by the hungry look in Bill’s eye. “How about… one of those Gleeful souls?”

“No. After the hell that those children put me through, I’m keeping both souls.”

“Hm… I’d settle for a blowjob, then.”

“You’re disgusting.” Will scowled.

“Prude,” Bill shot back.

“I’m a prude because I won’t suck your dick in exchange for a favor? Just… Please, do this for me. Master’s going to punish me otherwise.”

Bill scoffed, considering mocking Will again, but saying instead, “I guess I could do it, but you’re gonna owe me something down the line, y’hear?”

“Yes, Bill.” Will suddenly put his arms around Bill’s neck and pressed his face into the crook of his neck, sighing heavily. He could sense Bill’s confusion, so he murmured, “I’m tired. Master Mason cut off half my tongue earlier. Healing it drained my magic. All I want to do is spend time with Dipper and Mabel Pines…”

“Yeah?” Bill patted his back awkwardly. “You regrettin’ that deal?”

“More and more every day,” Will agreed, voice muffled by Bill’s shirt.

* * *

Bill insisted that since he wasn’t gaining anything from helping Will, he should take control of the plan, giving Will no choice but to reluctantly let him. Bill being Bill, he didn’t take it seriously at all. He insisted that he take his triangle form and pretend that Will trapped him in a jar like an insect, then be presented to Mason. “That way, that Gleeful kid’ll think you’re the greatest because you caught me. Come on, it’ll be funny.”

“Why don’t you just walk in and say that I sent you?” Will sighed, screwing the lid on the jar with Bill inside. He jabbed a few holes in the lid with a knife so he could hear the other demon speak.

“This is way more theatrical and dramatic. And, judging from what you’ve told me about those people, they _live_ for drama. Come on, Willy-kins.”

Will narrowed his eye at the irritating nickname and shook the jar vigorously for a few seconds, relishing Bill’s shouts of pain and annoyance. “Oops, sorry,” he said dryly, and carried him back to the Gleeful’s mansion.

It was late morning, after breakfast and before lunch. At this time, Mason was likely practicing magic. He hugged Bill’s jar close to his chest as he entered the twins’ workshop, thankful that Mason was alone, seated at one of the benches, gazing down at a spread of Tarot cards. The soft sound of Will’s footsteps made his head jerk up, but he relaxed slightly at the sight of his servant. Will silently wondered if he was expecting someone else.

“William.” Mason beckoned him with his finger. “There you are. What’s that you’re holding?”

Cautiously, Will walked up to his Master, holding out the jar that housed the yellow triangle. “Bill Cipher, sir.”

Mason’s eyes immediately lit up, and he jumped up from his seat with more energy than Will had seen him exert in years. “Yes! This is perfect, Will!” He snatched the jar and peered inside at the tiny Bill, who raised a middle finger to him. “Great-Uncle Stanford’s going to be so happy! Just think, Will! Once I give him Bill, he’s going to be so impressed, he’ll _have_ to show me respect! What if he finally gives me access to the money we’ve earned from magic shows? I could quit that fucking business for good!”

“Perhaps, sir,” Will replied with a faint smile.

The boy tapped the glass jar a few times. “How did you manage this?”

Will rubbed the back of his neck. “Magic… He drained himself and was vulnerable, so I trapped him…”

“Fantastic.” Mason started for the door, but then turned back and added, “Thank you, Will. You’ll be rewarded handsomely for this.” Bill gave Will a subtle thumbs-up while being carried out of the room. Once alone, Will opened a portal, vanishing through it to visit the Pines’s dimension. He had to take care of the second item on his agenda: carrying out Stanford’s orders to bring Dipper to him.

Mason knocked twice on the grand doors to Stanford’s study before entering. Stanford glanced up, then returned his focus to his work. “What do you want, boy?” he asked coldly. “I’m busy.”

“Great-Uncle Stanford, sir,” Mason addressed him, his shaking hands clutching the jar nervously. “I brought something for you.”

Curiosity piqued, Stanford set down his pen and gave Mason his attention. Wrinkled blue eyes behind glasses widened at the sight of the small yellow triangle within the glass prison. He stood slowly, eyes trained on the jar, and began to approach his nephew.

“It’s Bill Cipher,” Mason declared proudly. “I caught him. Right now, he's powerless. You have some use for this demon, don’t you?”

Stanford reached for the jar, and Mason gladly handed it over. “Are you sure this is Bill Cipher?” he asked softly, in awe as he stared down at the demon. “He’s… smaller than I expected.”

“I’m a grower, not a shower,” Bill shot back He'd been feigning annoyance, but took genuine offence to Stanford's remark. “Open the lid, pal, and I’ll take on a human form for ya.”

Ignoring him, Stanford looked to Mason again. “Wonderful job, Mason. You’re dismissed.”

Mason’s confident smile faltered at Stanford’s words. “…Dismissed?”

“Yes. Dismissed. I’m going to talk to Bill in private.”

“But…” Mason faltered, at a loss for words. “That’s it? You’re not going to thank me for capturing a powerful demon for you? There’s no reward?”

Stanford set the jar on his desk, then glared at Mason. “I hope you’re not serious.”

“I-“

“ _Dismissed_.”

Mason opened his mouth to object again, but thinking better of it, clamped his jaw shut and trudged out of the office, going straight to his room, slamming the door behind him. He threw himself onto his bed, struggling to hold back furious and frustrated tears. Why was it that nothing could impress Stanford? Mabel could spend the family’s entire fortune on clothes and jewelry and Stanford would _still_ like her more. Not only was Mason more intelligent than his sister, he was the one who’d made the deal with Will in the first place. Now, he’d given Stanford _another_ demon, and somehow, that wasn’t good enough. All he wanted was a little respect, but after years of being beaten and insulted by his great-uncle, everything was feeling hopeless. How could he even dream of quitting the Tent of Telepathy? In recent years, it was taking a toll on his health, but Stanford insisted that he keep performing.

That crowded, humid tent was a breeding ground for germs, and when greeting fans after shows, he had to wear gloves and a flu mask, lest he catch a fatal illness. Each time he got sick, he was dragged closer to his inevitable untimely death. Infections – bronchitis, pneumonia, the fucking common cold – wracked his body and permanently scarred his lungs, leaving him prone to more devestating illnesses. If that didn’t kill him, cancer would develop and finish him off. The doctors told him that there wasn’t anything they could do to cure it, so even if he lived past forty, he’d spend the rest of his years isolated, underweight, and anemic, while his sister became an accomplished researcher and inherited the Gleeful fortune.

Fucking genetics. Why was he born with such a horrible immune disorder and a death sentence? Why was he related to someone like Stanford? The author of his sacred journals, formerly his idol, was now the authoritarian patriarch of his family and stood directly in his way of collecting the money he was owed for performing in the Tent of Telepathy. And why, why on earth did he end up with Mabel Gleeful for a twin sister? That bitch did everything she could to show him up, to act like the superior twin, when she was nothing but a prettier-than-average, materialistic, shallow whore.

The only person Mason could depend on and trust was Will. Since he was the one who’d shook the demon’s hand, technically, Will had to answer to him before anyone else. Thus, if he had nothing else, he’d have Will to take care of him and keep him company.

Where did that demon run off to, anyways…?

* * *

Six fingers curled around the lid of the jar, but Stanford Gleeful hesitated to twist and pull it off the jar. Bill smirked inwardly. Did Stanford really think that this jar could keep him trapped? He could escape anytime he wanted. “Bill,” Stanford said, gazing steadily down at the triangle. “Welcome to my home. I’m sorry this is your first introduction to us: helpless and trapped, but perhaps I can let you out on a condition.”

“Sure thing, Sixer Two.”

“You must agree not to run away. Can you do that?”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

Stanford seemed suspicious, but twisted off the lid regardless, letting Bill float out of the jar. Then, in a sudden flash of light, the demon shifted form, becoming human – remotely human, anyways. Snake-like eyes and fangs were a dead giveaway of his true species. He stretched his arms behind him and arched his back, sighing when it popped. “Ah… Thanks, Sixer Two, you wouldn’t believe how cramped it is in there.”

“Call me Stanford, please,” said the older man warily, drawing his cape tighter around his shoulders. “And pull up a chair. Let’s talk business.”

Bill dragged a chair up to Stanford’s desk, propping his feet up on the mahogany and leaning back. “Great. What business do you have in mind?”

Stanford, returning to his own chair, laced his fingers together, an air of confidence seeping from him. “How would you like to take control of the entire world with me?”

“You know,” Bill began, his golden eye nonchalantly sweeping the room. Having never met Stanford Gleeful before, only hearing about him through Will, he was itching to learn more about this blue-eyed, cape-wearing, power-hungry Ford. Ford was one of his favorite people, so why not get to know a couple alternate versions or two? Maybe he could get a harem of Fords one day. He spotted a stuffed and mounted unicorn head on the wall above the fireplace’s mantle. Huh. Curious. He also noticed that a lot of the furniture was mahogany, and other décor was navy blue, making the room feel darker than it should with those enormous windows behind the desk that let in sunlight. Realizing his mind was wandering, he cleared his throat and swung his legs down, planting his feet on the floor as he faced Stanford. “I tried taking over that other dimension a few years back. You know, the one with Ford Pines and all that. Things didn’t go as planned, and the Pines family ruined everything for me.” Stanford seemed interested, so he went on. “Y’see, Ford made me swear to never do that again, or he’d literally end my entire existence, and that man does not break promises. He’d destroy me. Y’know, like…” His hands gestured to indicate an explosion. “Poof. So, I dunno about siding with you. Will would get mad at me, too.” He stretched again, standing. “Great to meet you, Rich Ford, but I’d better get going. Good luck taking over the world.”

“Bill Cipher, please sit back down,” Stanford said, his tone polite, but his words concealing something more malicious. “Hear me out. I’ve accomplished great feats in my lifetime, but old age has been creeping up on me.”

“No kidding,” Bill replied, plopping back down in the chair to smirk at Stanford’s scowl. “Those meatbags don’t last long, do they? The second they come into existence, they start falling apart. Skin gets wrinkly and saggy, your joints stop working, your hair loses pigment… Anyway, continue.”

Stanford brushed a bit of lint from the fur on his cape’s collar. “I’ve lost too many years locked outside of this dimension. There’s still so much I wish to achieve before I leave this realm.”

Bill scratched his scalp, eyes following dandruff flakes that fell to his lap. “So, is literally ruling the entire world on your bucket list? That’s ambitious.” He pretended to hold up a paper and pencil. “Lessee… Skydiving? Check. Publish a novel? Check. Become supreme ruler of Earth and pretend you’re God? Check! Now you can die in peace."

Unimpressed by Bill’s jokes, Stanford coughed into his hand and glared at the demon. “Hypothetically, with enough magic, I won’t need a ‘bucket list.’ Like you demons, I’ll be capable of regenerating my body and reversing the effects of aging, thus extending my life for an indefinite amount of time. In order to do that, I need your magic, too, Bill Cipher. Sharing Will’s magic isn’t enough. Furthermore, this agreement would benefit both of us. We share power and control of this world – and the universe, if you’re so inclined.”

The offer was tempting, that was for sure. He imitated Stanford’s pose, placing his elbows on the desk and leaning forward, hunching his shoulders slightly. “Pal, that sounds wonderful and all, but…” He glanced away for a moment, catching sight of an ornate letter-opener on the desk that resembled a dagger. Neat. “Will’s told me lots about you guys. Lots. I’ve heard that you aren’t the most trustworthy bunch.” He reached out and took the letter-opener, fiddling with it, admiring its sharp point. “I hear you’re a master of manipulation and lies. You lie to those brats of yours all the time. You lied to Will thirty-forty-some years ago, didn’t ya?”

The man’s eyes creased with a composed smile. “I’ve heard similar things about you. That’s why I think we’d get along so well… Like two peas in a pod, hm?”

Pressing the sharp tip of the letter-opener into his palm, testing if it would break the skin, Bill sighed, “Yeeeeaaah, maybe. Kinda sorta. I’d rule the world alongside my own Ford, y’know? But not you. This whole power-sharing thing doesn’t sound great. You seem greedy. Dunno if I can trust you with something like that. You’re the type who’d betray me and suck up all my magic. Like a magic-draining vampire. Do those exist? Probably, in some dimension. Creepy. And in conclusion, Mister Stanford Gleeful,” Bill said as he set the letter-opener back down. “No thank you. I’m flying solo.”

“Wait, Bill. Don’t make me-“

“Don’t make you what?” Bill said with a barking laugh. “Like anything you do could stop me, old man. That whole ‘powerless’ thing was a lie. If you touch me, I’ll rearrange your face, and I mean that in the most literal sense. Eyes where you ears are and your mouth on your forehead. Don’t fuck with a demon.” He waltzed out of the office, holding up two middle fingers as he went, leaving a livid Stanford sitting there with his fists clenched.

* * *

The Pines twins greeted Will with hugs, showering him with attention and sympathy when he told them what Mason did to him the previous night. They asked if it still hurt, if he was going to be okay, and took his hand and led him to the kitchen. Mabel made three overflowing mugs of instant hot chocolate and Dipper got out generic-brand blueberry muffins. Will, experienced in the kitchen, knew that this sort of food wouldn’t be allowed in the Gleeful house – he had to make it all from scratch himself so it was healthier, fresher, and better-tasting, but he thanked them and found the hot chocolate delicious regardless.

He normally would find himself content in a situation like this. It was just the three of them: two angels and a demon they’d rescued from hell. Unfortunately, he felt uneasy, fingers nervously picking apart his muffin into bite-sized pieces and leaving them on the plate. How was he going to betray Dipper after he was so nice to him? Should he come clean and tell him why he was really here, or use force? Should Mabel know about it? Would she be upset? Would Ford Pines be upset too?

“Will,” said Mabel softly, drawing Will’s attention away from his thoughts. “You okay?”

“Ah…” He blinked owlishly. “Fine, Miss. It’s just that my tongue’s still bothering me.”

“That sucks. Oh! You know what’ll make you feel better? I made you a present!” She sprang to her feet and raced upstairs, returning within seconds, something bundled up in her arms. She was panting and her face was bright-red from running… Will observed her closely for a moment. She had rosacea, just like Madam, but she wasn’t wearing heavy foundation to cover it. He smiled, admiring her confidence and carefree attitude about her appearance.

His smile grew wider when he saw what was in her hands. She held up a baby-blue, hand-knit sweater, and draped it over Will’s chest. “That looks like it should fit! There you go!”

Will gingerly took it, at a loss for words. “I… Thank you so much,” he said softly, embracing the sweater. It was soft and smelled like her… “What do I owe you for this?”

“Nothing!” she chirped. “It’s a gift! Free of charge! I thought you’d like something comfy to wear since you’re always in those stiff-looking suits.”

Will pressed his cheek to one of the sleeves. His voice came out in a whisper. “Thank you so much. You’re so kind to me.”

“Of course we are. You’re our friend!” Dipper said. “And you deserve it after everything the Gleefuls put you through.”

Will’s uncovered eye welled up with tears. He’d made up his mind. He’d rather accept whatever punishment Stanford was going to give him than hand over Dipper. Betrayal was completely off the table now. The Pines twins were absolute saints, and he silently vowed to do everything in his power to keep them safe.

He felt Dipper’s comforting hand on his shoulder, and glanced up into his smiling face, staring into soft brown eyes. “Don’t worry, Will. We’ll figure out a way to rescue you from the Gleeful family.”

With a sniff, he took Dipper’s hand off his shoulder to hold it. “Thank you…”

The sound of heavy footsteps in the hall made Will’s head suddenly jerk up, and he released Dipper’s hand, bundled up the sweater, and tossed it under his chair. Then, he went silent and stiff, his shoulders tense as he watched the kitchen doorway with one terrified eye.

Ford poked his head in, smiling at the three. “Morning, Will! Good to see you again. Dipper, can I borrow you for a bit?”

Will relaxed once he recognized the tacky red turtleneck and tattered trench coat, picking up the sweater from the floor. “I-I thought for a moment that… Master Stanford had followed me here… How silly,” he explained, noticing the twins's confused expressions. He brushed off the sweater and smiled sheepishly at Mabel. “He would never approve of me accepting this from you. I’m sorry for putting it on the floor.”

“No worries,” she assured him. “Hey, Grunkle Ford, can you walk quieter? Your footsteps scared him.”

Ford nodded, eyeing Will, who had scooted his chair closer to Mabel. “I can try.”

From upstairs, Stan shouted, “You’d be quieter if you didn’t wear your boots in the house all the time! I bought you those slippers for a reason!”

“I told you, Stan, the Compsognathus chewed them up!”

“Then just wear your socks! You keep tracking mud in my house!”

“It’s _my_ house!”

“Who paid the mortgage? You’re welcome, by the way!”

Ford sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a few deep breaths. “…Anyways. Will, I’m sorry for scaring you. Dipper, come with me to the basement. We’re testing out a weapon I invented.”

Will, again, tensed up and reached for Dipper’s hand just as the boy was standing. “Mr. Pines, sir…? You’re not… You don’t plan on testing it on him, do you?”

Ford was taken aback, brow furrowing in confusion as he said, appalled, “What gave you that idea? Of course not! It’s a weapon! We’re using dummies and targets. And don’t worry, I took proper safety precautions. Lead vests, goggles, gloves… Dipper will be fine.”

Dipper pulled his hand away from Will’s, asking in a lowered voice, “Ford wouldn’t do that. But… did Stanford Gleeful ever…?”

Will, a bit embarrassed, shrugged and mumbled, “He tested things on me… I don’t know if he’s done the same to Master and Madam…”

“Jesus Christ,” Mabel breathed, horrified. “What did he do to you?”

“…Tested things,” he repeated. “Sometimes weapons. Sometimes he wants to see what chemicals do to internal organs. He keeps jars of my body parts – organs, fingers, eyeballs, teeth, things I can regenerate – in the basement for when he needs them.”

Dipper covered his mouth with his hand, while Ford kept his gaze steadily on Will, a neutral expression concealing his shock and disgust. “Will,” Ford said, approaching the demon slowly, keeping his hands out so Will could see he wasn’t a threat. Still, he shrank back, staring up at Ford. “It’s okay. You don’t need to be scared of me. I’m nothing like Stanford Gleeful. I don’t want to harm living creatures in the name of science. The aim of my research is to educate people and perhaps use the findings to make a better world. Maybe we’ll find that fairies make honey that cure cancer, or the soothsquitos can accurately predict the future and warn us of sudden catastrophic events – my point is, I want to help people, not hurt them. I won’t hurt you, and I certainly won’t hurt my niece and nephew. Okay?”

Will, previously curled in on himself, let his body unfurl as Ford spoke. He stared up at Ford, now quite curious. Bill had told him how much he liked Ford (multiple times, going so far as to talk about what sex with him was like), but he genuinely didn’t have the capacity to understand how. He felt like he finally knew… Ford was just a kind old scientist. He didn’t want to use fear to control people, like Stanford did. Despite what his appearance suggested, he was the polar opposite of his master. He managed a faint smile as he said shyly, “Okay. I understand, sir. I’m sorry for suggesting otherwise.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ford said with a wave of his hand, making his way out of the kitchen. “I understand. You’re used to the other Ford.” He led Dipper away, and Will exhaled slowly, staring blankly at the kitchen table.

Mabel patted his arm. “See, Ford’s not so bad. But I think when he plays chess with Grunkle Stan, he cheats. That’s kinda bad.”

Will pressed his finger into a piece of the muffin, breaking it apart into crumbs. “I wish… I wish I was your servant… Everyone here is nice.”

“We wouldn’t want you to be our servant, though. Why make someone clean your house when everyone can just hang out and eat muffins all day?”

An amused chuckle was drawn from Will. “That sounds nice, ma’am. But who would clean the house if I didn't?"

His question gave her pause. She appeared to be seriously contemplating it, then said, “Ever see Snow White? The Disney one? Where she sings and all the animals do her chores for her? We could do that!”

Will laughed again and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

* * *

Where was that fucking demon when he needed him? Hopefully, he was carrying out his assignment. Stanford gazed at the spilt drops of whiskey on his rug, lamenting the stain for a moment before deciding to clean it himself. He headed to the cleaning storage closet, eyeing the shelves for carpet cleaner. What sort of haphazard organization system did Will use? He searched for five solid minutes before finding the spray bottle, pulling it off the shelf.

The orange and white container behind it caught his eye.

Curious, he temporarily abandoned the carpet cleaning solution, holding up the pill bottle to the closet’s dim light. “Venlafaxine,” he mumbled, reading the text aloud. “Needed for anxiety disorder... Mason Gleeful. Gravity Falls, Oregon.” He read the label a second time before fully comprehending what he'd just discovered. Swiftly, he pocketed the bottle, returning to his office and slamming the doors behind him.


	14. Medicine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has more child(?) abuse and mentions of incest. Nothing graphic, though!

“Any progress on luring in Dipper?” Stanford asked Will as his lunch was placed in front of him – a Cuban sandwich with a side of homemade French Fries that had been lightly seasoned with pepper. “You have just a few more days to bring him to me, Will.”

“Yes, sir,” Will replied, setting down Mason and Mabel’s plates too. Mabel was seated, but her brother hadn’t come downstairs yet. “I’ve convinced him that I’m his friend. I wish to spend the next couple of days persuading him that I wouldn’t betray him, just to be safe. Is that fine with you, Master Stanford?”

He placed a napkin delicately on his lap and nodded. “As long as you do as I ask.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Mabel, where’s Mason?”

The girl shrugged her shoulders, picking at her salad with a fork. She wasn’t a fan of salad, but Stanford was insisting that she lose weight this summer, and he’d ordered Will to give her healthier food. “I don’t know. He’s probably trying to summon the ghost of Shakespeare so he can suck his dick.”

Stanford frowned and glanced up at the doorway, listening for Mason’s footsteps. When he heard nothing, he said to Will, “Just take his lunch back to the kitchen. He can have it later, if he refuses to join us at mealtime.”

Will bowed and obeyed, letting Stanford and Mabel eat alone and in silence.

Mabel made her way upstairs after lunch, going straight to the library. As she expected, Mason was seated comfortably in his favorite chair, book in one hand, coffee in the other. She could have sworn that he was imitating the way that Stanford sat, knees spread and one ankle crossed over the other. She shut the library door and neared him. “What are you doing? Why didn’t you come downstairs for lunch?” she inquired curiously, taking a seat on the arm of the chair and peering at his book. Hamlet. Of course.

“I wasn’t hungry, dear sister. Does that strike you as unusual?” He closed his book and fixed her with a glacial stare.

The girl took his mug, trying his coffee, but making a face at its bitterness. “Are you mad at me or Great-Uncle Stanford? Or Will?” she guessed, and her voice dropped to a sultry murmur. “Tell me what’s wrong, dear brother.”

He glanced down at the cover of the book and murmured, “To die… to sleep… And by sleep we say to end the heartache…”

She giggled softly. “Is that a Hamlet quote? What’s it supposed to mean?”

He sighed and returned his gaze to her, their eyes locking. She had the same eyes as him. Bright and blue, yet always whispering about secrets that they’d never speak aloud. He knew not her secrets, and she knew not his. Since losing the ability to communicate telepathically, they drifted further and further apart. In truth, they hardly knew each other. “If you read Hamlet, you’d understand.”

“I don’t want to read Hamlet. Explain,” Mabel prompted.

After another heavy, irritated sigh, Mason said, “It’s part of one of the most famous soliloquies in the English language. Hamlet ponders suicide and thinks of it as merely a long sleep that might end his suffering.”

Mabel set down the mug she’d been holding so she could run her fingers over his cheek, turquoise painted fingernails nipping his skin. “That sounds overdramatic.”

“It’s a play.” He studied her. She was gorgeous. She looked so much like him, but less… gaunt. Less disturbed. Less the product of abuse by their uncle’s hand and more a cheery sociopathic girl with great ambitions. Perhaps Mason found her beautiful because he wished that he was as carefree and healthy as she was. “It’s supposed to be dramatic.”

“Mmhm…” Mabel pulled her hand back. “Why do you like that stuff so much?”

“I find Hamlet to be… relatable, to an extent. The Prince of Denmark, determined to expose his father’s death as a murder and avenge him…”

Mabel, now eyeing her brother strangely, slid off the arm of the chair, resting her hands on it instead. “How is that relatable? Our uncle didn’t kill our father. He’s still alive.”

Mason had to suck in a deep breath before explaining, exasperated, “Try to understand, my lovely sister, that it’s not a direct parallel. Hamlet has a horrible uncle who’s greedy for power. He stands in Hamlet’s way. He deceives everyone in the kingdom. Understand?”

“You... don’t like Stanford?” was all she could glean.

“I _despise_ him. Likewise, he despises me. Mabel, he takes all of our money, gives us no choice but to keep doing the Tent of Telepathy – he won’t even listen to the suggestion of finding a real job or attending school – gives us no independence, and just now, I did him an enormous favor, and he did nothing to thank me.”

She blinked, then smirked. “Now I see the connection between you and Hamlet.”

“You do?” Hope swelled in his chest.

“You’re both overdramatic. Stanford’s not that bad. Neither is being homeschooled or doing magic shows.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected from his good-for-nothing sister. She was too shallow to even begin to comprehend what sort of situation they were in. A painful lump appeared in his throat from anger. “You’ve never been in my position,” he said bitterly. “I want respect and independence from him, but no matter what I do, he treats me like dirt.”

“Uh-huh. Maybe if you did anything besides read gay poems all day, he’d be nicer. He’s really nice to me.”

“What do you expect me to do?” Mason hissed, abruptly standing and returning the book to its shelf. “I study more than you. I work incredibly hard in the Tent of Telepathy. I do everything Stanford asks of me and more – how could I possibly please him?”

Mabel handed his mug back to him. “I don’t know. Maybe if you acted more like me, he’d like you.”

Mason scowled at her. She’d never understand. He snatched the mug out of her hands, turned on his heel, and stormed out of the library. “Idiocy,” he growled under his breath, malicious hatred gleaming in his eyes. “Thy name is woman.”

After setting his half-full mug down in his room, he went straight to Will’s supply closet. With Stanford and Mabel increasing his stress, he’d need to make sure he’d have access to his medication when he needed it, and with Will frequently leaving to see the Pines twins, he feared that the demon wouldn’t be around to fetch it for him. He opened the door quietly, pushing bottles to the side to reach the medication. Upon finding that it wasn’t in its usual place, confusion set in, and he frowned. Will must have hidden it. He proceeded to search behind everything – the window cleaner, the baking soda, the wood polish – he went through the entire closet twice, scouring each shelf from front to the very back, his fingers brushing dusty cobwebs while he felt around.

Soon enough, his confusion was replaced with panic. Where the hell was it? Where had that demon put it? He shut the closet door, glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, and went straight to the kitchen, thankfully finding Will standing in front of the oven.

“Will.” Mason’s voice came out as a trembling whimper, anxiety having latched its fingers around his throat. “Where is it?”

“Where is what, Master Mason?”

“My medicine.”

Will titled his head. “The usual place, sir. I’m sorry, did you want me to put it in your room?”

Mason reached out, gripping the door frame, all of a sudden light-headed. His heart was beating too fast. “It’s not there. I looked. Every shelf. Where did you hide it?”

Puzzled, Will frowned. “I’ll find it for you tonight, sir. When I do, I’ll put it in your room so you can have it tomorrow morning. Does that sound good?” When Mason didn’t reply, Will stepped forward and murmured, “Take deep breaths and listen to me, sir. I promise I’ll find it.”

Mason swallowed and stared into Will’s solemn, uncovered eye. Will would, without a doubt, do as he promised. Mason would never admit allowed how much he depended on the servant to care for him, but he wasn’t sure how he would manage his physical and mental ailments without him. Will also understood how horrible Stanford was, and didn’t try to convince him that Stanford was a good person in the way that his sister did. If he had a complaint about his great-uncle, Will would listen, nod, and help validate his thoughts.

His panic was starting to lessen, freeing his mind, but leaving him suddenly tired. He went further into the kitchen, leaning on the granite counter focusing on his breathing. “Will,” he said softly. “You could easily lie to me and say that my struggles are all in my head, like Stanford does. If you wanted, you didn’t have to get me the medication. Why did you?”

At the sound of a beep, Will put on an oven mitt and brought out a tray of fresh sugar cookies from the oven. “Because I’m your servant. If I don’t take care of you, I’m breaking our deal.”

Mason watched him closely, but with slightly blurred vision, he couldn’t quite make out all the details – Will’s soft curly hair had turned into a blue blob. “Are you this nice to Mabel?”

“Madam doesn’t ask for help as often as you.” Will used a spatula to transfer the cookies from the tray to a wire rack so they’d cool down faster. “She’s less open about her emotions. Perhaps she doesn’t experience them as intensely as you.”

Despite his fatigue, Mason bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t mean offence, sir. However, I suspect that she… has a smaller range of emotions. I suppose the word I’m looking for is ‘sociopathic.’”

Mason calmed down and huffed, in full agreement. “She’s a bitch. She doesn’t sympathize with me at all. And what about Stanford? Do you think the same about him?”

Will took a moment to respond, hesitant. “I don’t… I shouldn’t say anything possibly insulting about him.”

“Hey, Will…?” Mason suddenly slumped down to the floor, head in his hands. “Do you think I could ever be normal?”

“Normal, sir? What do you mean?”

“I know that I’ll live with the immune disorder for the rest of my life,” Mason began softly, his voice muffled, and with his hands in front of his face, Will couldn’t see them watering up. “There’s no cure. But I want to live a normal life. I want to be free from anxiety. I want to get a normal job and find a girlfriend and buy my own car. Most of all, I want to get away from this horrible family.”

Will could relate. He knelt beside his master and murmured, “I’m sorry, sir. I hope you can live a normal life, too.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice to me. As always.”

“What would you rather hear?”

“Your honest opinion. Do you think it’s possible?” Mason finally lifted his head, revealing red around his eyes and a trembling lower lip.

Oh, dear… He was crying now. Will knew for certain that Mason didn’t have much of a chance at achieving a ‘normal life.’ Even without anxiety, he had no idea what it was like to be independent from Stanford. How would he even make money without the Tent of Telepathy? With his abysmal social skills, he wouldn’t be able to get a decent job, let alone a girlfriend. Not to mention the fact that Stanford refused to let Mabel and Mason have their own bank accounts – the only way that Mason would be in control of his earnings was if he suddenly had a change of heart, or suddenly died.

But, Master Mason was crying, and if he upset him more, he’d be punished. “I think you have chance, sir. You’re clearly very determined to do well in life.”

“…Thank you, Will.” Mason sniffed, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “I really hope everything works out.”

“The important thing is to stay positive, Master Mason.”

* * *

 

Once Mason was sufficiently calmed down, Will left to visit the other dimension, carrying a container filled with the cookies he’d just baked. He appeared in the kitchen of the Pines’ home and placed them on the counter, briefly admiring the baby-blue ribbon he’d delicately placed on the lid.

Footsteps alerted him to the presence of one of the family members. He turned, seeing Stanley Pines standing in the doorway, a newspaper in one hand. “Hey there, Will. Wasn’t expecting you back.”

Will smiled politely and bowed his head. “Sorry to intrude, sir. I’m trying to visit as often as possible, since Master Stanford gave me a window of time to come here freely. I hope you don’t mind, but your family is so kind to me. I love being here.”

“Not at all.” Stan’s expression softened. “Dipper and Mabel are good kids, huh? I wonder how they turned out like that.”

“It’s probably because they have fantastic role models.”

“Oh, stop it.” Stan grinned, then gestured to the container with his newspaper. “What’s in the Tupperware? Deer teeth?”

Will beamed and held up the container. “Deer teeth are more of Bill’s thing. These are homemade sugar cookies for you and your family!”

Stan smiled, too. “That’s real sweet of you! My doctor told me to watch my blood sugar, so I don’t think I can have any, but the kids will love ‘em.” He turned to the stairs and shouted, “Dipper! Mabel! Will’s here!”

Dipper was the first one downstairs. He waved. “Will! How are you?”

“I’m well, sir. No injuries this time.” He glanced behind Dipper, seeing Mabel behind him. “Good afternoon, miss! Here, cookies for both of you.” He presented them with the treats. “Mister Ford can have some as well, if he’s around.”

“Thanks!” Dipper took the container, opening it. “He’s downstairs. Mind if I call him up?”

Will hesitated, but nodded. “Do as you’d like, sir.”

He wasn’t sure why being in Ford’s presence made him so uncomfortable. He knew for a fact that Ford wouldn’t harm him. Maybe it was the gray hair with a silver stripe, or the unique shape of his jaw, or the six fingers that seized Will’s attention every time he saw his hands that filled him with unease. Regardless of the dimension he came from, Will was terrified of every version of Ford.

Dipper’s voice dragged him from his thoughts and distracted him from Ford’s sudden appearance. “Will, we wanted to talk to you. About the Gleefuls.”

Will blinked, curious. “Of course. We can talk about them.”

Dipper, Mabel, Will, and Ford sat around the kitchen table, and Stan leaned against the wall, arms crossed and listening to the other four. Will glanced around, feeling claustrophobic. Surrounded. Trapped. At least he had magic, in case anyone tried to corner him – What was he thinking? The Pines would never do anything to hurt him. Slowly, he forced himself to relax, adjusting his posture and waiting politely for someone to speak.

Mabel was first. “We think you should try to talk Mason Gleeful into breaking the deal you two have.”

Dipper added, “And if you can’t do it, we’ll go back with you and convince him ourselves.”

Will looked between the twins and replied with a slight smile, “I thought you weren’t supposed to come to my dimension? Didn’t Mr. Ford and Mr. Stan Pines forbid you…?”

Ford cleared his throat, and Will’s attention snapped to him. “If they want to do something, I know there’s not much my brother and I can do to stop them,” he admitted. “So, if they’re going to go on a potentially dangerous trip to speak to Mason Gleeful, Stan and I are going with them. We’ll bring weapons.”

“…It’s not worth the effort, sir,” Will replied, eyes glued to Ford’s coat. Was he hiding a weapon in there right now? “Even if Master Mason wanted to break the deal… Master Stanford would be unhappy. You have no idea what he’d do if he lost control of me.”

“Then we’ll go through Stanford Gleeful, too,” Stan replied, driving his fist into his palm. “No big deal.”

Will appreciated the sentiment. The Pines were so nice. “No disrespect, sir, but that’s a very big deal. Master Stanford is a powerful magician, and as long as he has a portion of my magic, he’d be unstoppable.”

Ford leaned across the table, and Will turned to him, for once not flinching back. “We’re willing to risk whatever it takes.”

“…Why, though?” Will’s faint smile wavered. “You should be more concerned with protecting your own family. Besides, I’m sure I can handle the situation until Master and Madam pass away… That should only take another twenty years for Master and sixty or seventy for Madam.”

“Will. I’ve given it some thought, and although you benefit from the deal, it’s taking its toll on you. From what Dipper and Mabel tell me, and from what I can observe, you’re showing signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. That’s very serious, given that you’ve only been with them for six or seven years, and you’re already experiencing horrible trauma. Can you really last ten times that?”

“I…”

“I don’t want you to take this as an insult. I know you’re capable of a lot, seeing as you’re a demon, but you should know that our family is prepared to offer you help.”’

Will’s gaze slowly traveled around the room, taking in the sight of everyone smiling and eagerly awaiting his response. They supported him. Dipper Pines had given him hope that things could get better, and now, he had the chance to take action and make it better. Finally, here was his opportunity to escape the seemingly endless abuse. He broke into a pleased grin and nodded. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this, Mr. Ford. Thank you so much…  I’ll try to speak to Master Mason tonight. I’ll return with your answer tomorrow.”

“Oh, and another thing,” Stan said, coming over and putting a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Come back later tonight, if you can. Around eight o’clock. Tonight’s family movie night and we’re making popcorn.”

The demon nodded, excitement swelling in his chest. That sounded delightful! He’d forgotten how normal human families worked after living with the Gleefuls for so long – they didn’t have family activities. “I’ll see if I can, sir! Thank you!”

* * *

 

With the tension in the air at the dinner table, Will was nervous to serve dinner. Stanford held himself stiffly, holding his fists on the table. In contrast, Mason slouched, reluctant to look at his great-uncle. The boy knew exactly what was coming.

“Mason, why didn’t you have lunch with us earlier?” Stanford asked once Will placed their plates in front of him. Before he could scurry away, Stanford gestured with his finger that he should stay. Obediently, Will bowed his head and stood beside Stanford, his gaze on his shoes.

“I wasn’t hungry. I think I’m getting sick again,” Mason lied.

“Are you?” Disdainful sapphire eyes locked on their target. “Or did you simply not want to sit with your sister and I?”

Mason picked up his fork, slowly and absentmindedly slicing his food, distracting himself from the conversation. “I’m probably getting a fever. Will’s going to check my temperature later.”

Stanford, more stubborn than his nephew, increased the pressure on him. “Are you certain you’re being honest, Mason? Because I thought you were sulking in your room after what happened this morning.”

The boy finally glanced up, lip curling up in an infuriated sneer. “You refused to acknowledge that I brought you a powerful demon from another dimension.”

“What?” Mabel’s eyes widened. “You gave him Bill Cipher? Mason, we promised to do that together! Where is he?”

“He’s gone,” Stanford replied curtly. “He walked out of my office and disappeared. Don’t worry, my dear, you didn’t miss much – he’s very rude and uncooperative… Much like your brother here. You thought that I would reward you for giving me Bill Cipher, Mason? You lied about him – that demon had all of his power. If I’d gotten on his bad side, he could have easily ended my life.”

Now, Mason’s eyes went wide. “What are you- Will, you _lied_! You said his magic was drained!”

Before Will could conjure up an excuse, Stanford spoke, his voice an irate growl. “You didn’t catch him yourself, Mason? You made Will do it for you?”

“I-“

“You wanted to take credit for your servant’s half-finished job.” Stanford shook his head. “Disgraceful, Mason. You’re utterly disgraceful.”

Mason’s hands began to shake to the point that his fork slipped from his fingers, clattering against his plate. “You don’t understand, Great-Uncle Stanford. Will and I did it together…”

“What have I taught you, boy?” Stanford suddenly pushed his chair away from the table and stood, and Mason flinched back, despite being several feet away from him. “If you want to do something, you do it yourself. If you were a true Gleeful, you wouldn’t need anyone’s help. Everything _I_ accomplished, I accomplished alone. Your sister will follow in my footsteps. On the other hand, you, Mason, can’t seem to do anything right. You’re the black sheep of the family.”

Mason, while thoroughly intimidated by his great-uncle, mustered up the courage to stand as well, challenging Stanford. His legs felt numb. His entire body trembled with the intense fear that Stanford had built up in him over the past seven years. Somehow, he forced himself to stare directly into the man’s eyes and say in a loud but steady voice, “Is my black wool the result of generations of inbreeding in the Gleeful family?”

His sister gasped aloud. “ _Mason!_ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Yes, Mason.” Stanford was gripping the table now. “What does that mean?”

“I’ve seen our family tree. I’ve read all about it.” Mason was already losing his courage to stand up for himself, and his voice faltered. “Surely, you know about it, Great-Uncle Stanford. You own the book that says our ancestors fornicated with their cousins.”

“Mason.” Stanford’s voice had gotten quieter, yet somehow, sounded more furious than ever. “You’re dismissed from the dinner table.”

For a moment, Mason stood still, staring at Stanford, unsure if he should obey out of fear, or continue to defy him.

“ _Dismissed_ , Mason. I want to see you in my office after I’m done with dinner.”

Mason gave Stanford one final glare before fleeing the dining room, his footsteps pounding on the stairs. Stanford sat back down, picked up his fork, and glanced at Mabel. “You’re welcome to start eating. Unless you have something that you’d like to say?”

This was an obvious challenge – he was testing her to see if she’d side with her brother and start interrogating him, or be compliant and do what was expected of her. She couldn’t stay quiet, though – not with curiosity gnawing at her. “What was he talking about, Great-Uncle Stanford? Inbreeding…?”

Stanford took a bite of his dinner, taking his time chewing. He then said calmly, “Don’t worry about it, my dear. I think he’s running a fever. Will, go upstairs and take Mason’s temperature. Oh, and make sure he’s in my office before I get there. After that, do as you’d like.”

“Yes, sir.” Will left the dining room swiftly, pleased to escape Stanford, terrified that one wrong move would send him into a rage.

* * *

 

To sit in a chair in Stanford’s office and wait upon his arrival was excruciatingly agonizing. His gaze fastened to the grandfather clock, he observed the gold pendulum swinging back and forth and the second-hand creeping around the circular face of the clock, each tick counting down the seconds until his inevitable punishment. While he dreaded what sort of injury Stanford intended to inflict upon him, he didn’t regret lashing out. Stanford had intentionally antagonized him. He had every right to throw an insult right back at him. The remark about inbreeding wasn’t even meant as an insult – it was true. It was right there in the family history book. Rather than mock his uncle, he only wanted to call him out for his lie by omission, conveniently never telling the twins that their ancestors engaged in taboo and debauchery, likely for the purpose of keeping their blood ‘pure.’ As if – there was nothing pure about their family.

Will entered the study quietly and approached Mason. “Master Stanford asked me to make sure you’re here, sir,” he explained.

“Where else would I be?” Mason snapped, crossing his arms.

“Another dimension, perhaps.” Will waved his hand, suddenly opening a portal. “Somewhere safe, where you’re not tormented or punished for anything. Best of luck to you, sir.” He disappeared through the portal, ignoring Mason’s scowl.

Fucking useless demon. He wasn’t going to stick around and at least try to protect him from whatever Stanford was about to do? Didn't he say earlier that it was his job to take care of him?

Soon after Will’s disappearance, Stanford pushed open the study’s doors and strode over to the fireplace, walking past Mason without sparing him so much as a glance. While starting a fire, he said coolly, “I’ll give you a chance to explain what happened at dinner.”

Mason stood, facing Stanford, his act of defiant courage met only with the sound of newspaper being crumpled and tossed into the fireplace. He wouldn’t even give him the dignity of looking at him. “What’s there to explain?” he challenged, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide their tremors. “It’s true. Our family’s incestuous and no one told me or Mabel. Why did you keep it a secret?”

“Why do you think it’s a secret?” With the freshly lit fire licking its way up the logs, Stanford closed the glass panels and turned, glowering at Mason. “If you’d simply brought it up to me politely, instead of making a scene in front of your sister, I would have told you about it. Are you that obsessed with villainizing me, Mason?”

Mason slouched slightly, and averted his gaze from his great-uncle, focusing on the fire instead as guilt shot through him. “I’m… not. I’m just mad that… it felt like you were hiding it. No one’s mentioned it before.”

Stanford followed Mason’s stare, now also watching the fire, one hand behind his back, the other reaching for his pants pocket. “I’m sorry you misread the situation. No, it’s all quite true. I suspect that it’s the reason for my polydactyly.”

“…And my immune disorder,” Mason added softly. “If we were a normal family, I wouldn’t have been born like this.”

“You wouldn’t have been born at all.” He pulled something small and orange from his pocket, concealing it from Mason. “These are simply unfortunate side effects of our predecessor’s decisions.”

Mason glanced up at Stanford, confusion furrowing his brow. “…You think that it’s horrible, right? That they’d give their descendants birth defects for the sake of purity? Because from the sound of it, you’re not condemning them…”

Stanford didn’t respond directly to his statement, filling Mason with a sense of vague discomfort. “While we’re on the topic of hiding things,” he said, and revealed to his nephew the prescription bottle. Mason’s eyes went wide, instantly recognizing it as the medication that had gone missing earlier. “I’m curious, Mason. Why is that you accuse me of hiding something from you, when you were keeping this in the cleaning supplies closet?”

Mason’s first response was to give a lame excuse in a shaky voice. “I-I don’t… know what that is. It’s probably Will’s…”

“Of course.” Stanford held up the bottle so the dying golden glow from the sunset illuminated the label. “Assuming that Will changed his name to ‘Mason Gleeful,’ that makes perfect sense.”

In his pockets, Mason’s fists clenched. “Look, I can’t explain what that demon does,” he said, lowering his voice and adding a hint of a snarl, pretending to be angry. “He’s always sneaking around and – maybe he just used my name for a prescription. I can’t explain why he’d want anxiety medication, though. You’d better ask him.”

Stanford bore the faintest amused smile. “I never said it was for anxiety.”

What little color Mason had in his pallid cheeks drained. He finally pulled his hands from his pockets to wipe away the sweat. “…D-didn’t you?”

“Enough lying, Mason. Explain what this is for.”

Stanford had him with his back against the wall. He couldn’t keep making things up without being caught. With a resigned sigh, he surrendered. “It’s for my anxiety… Will and I hid it in the closet so no one else would know.”

“Why was it a secret?”

“…Because Mabel would make fun of me, and you would tell me I don’t need medication. You’d say it was all in my head.”

“Isn’t it?” Stanford shook the bottle gently, listening to the pills rattle around. Then, without hesitation, he walked over to the fireplace, opened the glass panels, and tossed the bottle in. “I’m tired of you overreacting like this, boy. This is just your excuse to abuse prescription drugs.”

Mason cried out and rushed forward in an attempt to save his pills, and if not for his great-uncle standing in the way, he would have stuck his hand into the fire to pull it out. Instead, he could only watch helplessly as the flames coiled around the bottle, soon covering it until he could no longer distinguish it from the rest of the fire. He continued to stare until he suddenly felt fingers in his hair, then pain in his scalp when he was yanked away from the fire. While Stanford continued to hold him by his hair, he said coldly, “Look at me, Mason.”

Panic rising in his chest, Mason was forced to pull his gaze from the fire up to his great-uncle. He could hardly process what was happening, his mind fully occupied with a growing sense of dread and the feeling that his entire world was crumbling with his medication now destroyed. What was he supposed to do without it? Would Will be able to get more? Or would he spend the rest of his life trying to fight of panic attacks on his own? Was that even possible?

“Mason.” Stanford slapped him across the face sharply, then released him. “I don’t want to find anything like that in my house again. Do I make myself clear?”

Mason could barely manage a response. He felt detached from the world, Stanford’s voice distant and the room blurry and spinning. He somehow nodded, reaching up to comfort his stinging cheek.

“Good. Now, I’m not going to punish you… Not this time, anyways. You’re dismissed.”

He nodded again and slunk from the study, not noticing his sister standing to the side of the doors in the hallway. He went straight to his room without a word, shut the door, and pressed his back to the door, doing all he could to calm himself down. What did Will always say? Deep breaths. Focus on something else.

Maybe he should focus on getting out of this hellish house. He swallowed back a lump in his throat and clutched the gem he wore around his neck, opening a portal to the Pines’s dimension. He glanced back, briefly paranoid that Stanford was somehow watching him and was ready to punish him for running off, but once he assured himself that he was alone, he walked through the portal.

In the office, Stanford watched Mabel enter. “What’s going on with Mason?” she inquired.

“He thought he had a mental illness. He obtained medication for it behind my back.”

“Oh.” She frowned, a bit disappointed in her brother. Surely, he knew better than to do something like that.

“Mabel, my dear, promise me that you won’t end up like him. You’re better than him.” He sat down behind his desk and laced his fingers together. “But don’t worry – he won’t be dragging us down for much longer.”

His cryptic words sent a chill down Mabel’s spine, but she simply nodded in acknowledgement, knowing that if she questioned him, he might tell her something she didn’t want to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's unclear what Stanford has planned for Mason (and why he insists that Will kidnap Dipper), you can either ask, or wait until it's said more explicitly in later chapters! (Apologies for focusing so much on Mason. Will's coming back into the spotlight soon). Also I wrote the fireplace scene while getting some anxiety so hopefully that made it more realistic? 
> 
> On another note, I expect to update less often from now on because I'm going to university soon. Thank you all for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting! If you've commented before, don't be shy about commenting again! I can't express how happy I get when I read your comments!!


	15. Deceit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains manipulation/abuse and torture reminiscent of surgery. Of course, this is also in the story's tags, which I update when necessary. If you want anything else tagged, please message me!

Will couldn’t be happier, snuggled up on the couch between his two angels while watching a sci-fi film. He wasn’t paying much attention to the movie, and only occasionally nibbled at the popcorn in front of them. All that mattered was that he was surrounded by the Pines family, who he knew would protect him and comfort him whenever he was in need. This night couldn’t get any better.

It could, however, get worse.

Then, the five of them heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Stan immediately got up, grabbing the remote and wielding it like a weapon, fearing an intruder. Dipper’s eyes widened with fear. Will, however, sighed and closed his eyes. He immediately recognized the footsteps as Mason’s. He’d probably been ordered by Stanford to bring Will home.

Mason appeared in the doorway, startling everyone except the demon. Will got up and approached him, reluctant to leave the sides of Dipper and Mabel, but knowing that he should see to whatever Mason wanted.

The boy said nothing, and once Will was near him, he turned quickly and left the room, suggesting that Will should follow him. He gave a final glance to the family before hurrying after his master. He watched Mason pause in the hall, then lean against the wall and hold out his hand. Will placed his hand in his master’s and gently squeezed it. “Anxiety, sir?” he asked softly.

“Shut up,” Mason hissed, pulling Will closer to him. “Stanford… he found my medication.”

“…Come again?”

“He found it,” Mason repeated, glaring at Will as he forced himself to take deep breaths. “And he threw it in the fucking fireplace. Why didn’t you hide it better?”

While Dipper and Mabel peered at them from the doorway, Will did his best to comfort Mason. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t think he’d look in there. I’ll get a new prescription…”

“No.” Mason clung to Will’s hand. “H-he said if he finds it again… I don’t know. He’ll probably kill me…” He swallowed, looked down, then looked back up with tears in his eyes. “What am I going to do…?”

Will offered him a sympathetic smile. “We’ll figure something out.”

Mabel had wandered up to them, and crouched down beside Will. “Everything okay?”

“Fuck off.”

More politely, Will added, “He’ll be fine, ma’am, thank you. We appreciate your concern.”

“There’s nothing to be concerned about.” Mason wiped his eyes with his sleeve to glower at her. “Leave me and my servant alone.”

Mabel glanced back at Dipper, then said, “If you’re having problems at home, we have an air mattress we can put in the living room for you. You can spend the night.”

Mason, distracted from his worries, strengthened his voice to say in a commanding tone, “I don’t want your charity. And everything’s fine.”

“Suit yourself.” Mabel shrugged and went back to her brother, pulling him into the living room. “Mason Gleeful’s here,” she explained to Stan and Ford. “He’s crying. I think he was fighting with Stanford Gleeful.”

“Mason Gleeful?” Ford’s eyes darted to the hallway. “In _my_ home? Did you tell him to leave?”

“Of course not! I told you, he’s crying! He’s upset about something!”

“He’s also a horrible, ill-mannered person.” Ford started for the hallway, but Mabel stood in his way, arms crossed. Ford crossed his arms, too. “He has to leave.”

“What if the other Stanford hurt him?” she questioned.

That gave Ford pause, but he walked around her and went out to the hall. Mason flinched at the sound of his boots on the floor, but once he saw Ford Pines in his red turtleneck and black jeans, he wiped his eyes again and got up, facing him head on. How quickly he was able to put on another character’s mask. “Hello again, vagabond,” he sneered, as though his anxiety had entirely vanished.

“Mason Gleeful,” Ford said coldly. “I’d like you to leave immediately.”

Mason’s smirking façade faltered. “I’ll do as I please.”

“I’m armed,” he warned. “I’ve heard how you treat Will, and I don’t want you near my family.”

The suggestion of a threat had Mason’s legs shaking. “Go ahead and try to hurt me vagabond. I have magic on my side.”

Will tried to take a hold of Mason’s hand again to calm him down, but Mason jerked his hand away. Will glanced at Ford fearfully. “Please, let’s not fight… Mr. Pines, Master Mason only needs a bit of time. I’ll keep him out of your way.”

“He needs to go home,” Ford insisted.

“He can’t. Master Stanford’s upset with him. It’s dangerous there.”

Ford reached for his back pocket. “It’s dangerous _here_.”

“Sir!” Will squeaked. He stepped in front of Mason, shielding him. “You don’t understand! He can’t go home right now. I’m not sure I can, either… Master Stanford might be mad at me, too.”

“Jesus, Will.” Mason shoved his servant to the side. “You’re making me sound pathetic. Don’t let him give you the wrong idea, vagabond. I can handle the situation at home just fine.”

Ford scowled. “Then go home.”

“No.”

“Master Mason!” Will sighed, exasperated. “Just ask politely if you can spend the night here!”

“You can’t,” Ford growled.

“I don’t want to,” Mason shot back. “Will, shut up before I punish you.”

Mabel, from a few feet away, shouted, “No more fighting! Be quiet!” Her shrill voice caught everyone’s attention, and she marched up to the three, hands authoritatively placed on her hips. “We’re going to resolve this without weapons and name-calling!” she declared. “Okay, Mason Gleeful. You go first. Tell us why you’re here!”

“…Is this a game to you?” Mason scoffed, rolled his eyes, and replied, “I’m here because I needed to tell Will what happened at home.”

She nodded. “And why can’t you go home?”

“…Because Great-Uncle Stanford is a dick.”

Will added softly, “Because he might hurt Master Mason.”

Mason scowled at Will, but didn’t protest his response.

“Okay, Grunkle Ford, your turn!” She made a dramatic gesture to the man. “What’s your objection to Mason being here?”

Ford crossed his arms over his chest. “Because he has a history of violence, he has no morals, and I fear for your safety.”

 “Okay! There’s both sides. Dipper, Grunkle Stan, what do you think?”

“Uh… I don’t trust Mason,” Dipper said softly. “But if he can’t go home, we should at least offer him shelter?”

“I’d feel bad for kicking him out if he doesn’t have anywhere to go,” Stan admitted. “He’s just a kid, Ford.”

Mabel grinned brightly. “All in favor of letting Mason stay, raise your hand!” Dipper, Stan, Will, and Mabel all raised their hands. Mason’s hesitantly lifted his hand, too. “Majority rules,” she declared triumphantly. “Mason stays!”

“You’re forgetting that this is my house, and I make the rules,” Ford pointed out. “It’s not a democracy.”

“Give the kid a chance,” Stan said, coming up to his brother and swinging his arm around his shoulders. “Let’s say, if he tries anything funny, he goes. Otherwise, he stays.”

The way Ford was glaring at Stan made Mason uncomfortable. He held onto Will’s arm tightly while watching him, silently asking if Ford expressed anger the same way Stanford did. Will was nervous too, but patted the back of Mason’s hand, telling him that it would be okay.

Ford, much to Mason’s relief, took a deep breath and calmed down. “...Fine. Mason, you can stay the night. I’ll put the air mattress in the living room, unless you’d rather share the attic with Dipper and Mabel.”

“Living room’s fine,” Mason replied curtly.

“And thank you for this,” Will said quickly. “We both appreciate it!”

Ford grunted softly and opened the closet door, pulling out the mattress box and some spare blankets.

Once it was set up, Mason sat down on it, testing its softness. It wasn’t nearly as cushy as his bed at home. “Do you have more blankets?” he asked Ford. When the man shook his head, Mason frowned.

Will gently nudged him. “Please be polite, sir. This is better than sleeping outside in the cold.” He glanced up at Ford. “This is fine, sir. Do you happen to have nightclothes for him, though?”

“You can borrow Dipper’s,” Ford said, his voice gruff. He still wasn’t keen on having Mason stay with them.

Mason was about to protest, but Will nodded. “That’ll be good. Thank you!” He left Mason’s side, going to find Dipper. He soon returned with a T-shirt and flannel pants. Mason appeared disgusted.

“Seriously?” he huffed, holding up the shirt, seeing a hole in the sleeve. “You’d think he was homeless, wearing things like this…”

“Sir, be polite…” Will sighed. “I know you’re used to living in the mansion, having a nice bed, and wearing classier clothes, but the Pines family is doing you an enormous favor by letting you stay.” He lowered his voice. “Mr. Ford is ready to make you leave at any time. Then, your options are going back home to Master Stanford, or sleeping outside. Wouldn’t you rather sleep here?”

“Sure, but I wouldn’t be caught dead in these pajamas.”

“No one else will see you wearing them.”

Mason bundled up the clothes in his arms, glared at Will, then headed to the bathroom. He returned wearing them, his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. He’d also washed the product from his hair, so his bangs covered his forehead. In fact, he looked a lot like Dipper Pines. Will smiled approvingly, but Mason snapped, “If you say anything, I’ll hit you.”

He’d spoken just as Dipper and Mabel were coming downstairs. Mabel rushed over to Will and hugged him tightly. “Don’t you dare hit him!”

“Why not? He’s my servant and I’ll treat him however I please.”

“Not in our house, you won’t,” Dipper disagreed.

Mason sneered. “If Will disobeys me, I’m going to punish him. That’s how it works.”

Mabel pulled Will further away from Mason. “Why are you so mean to him?” she demanded. “Why can’t you be nice for once?”

Will nodded sagely. “We’re guests here, Master. We should do as they say.”

“Shut up, Will. No matter where we are, you’re my servant, and we follow my rules. Is that clear?”

“Hey, Mason.” Dipper sat down on the air mattress and patted the spot next to him, suggesting that Mason join him. He didn’t, of course. “...Why do you treat Will like that?”

“He’s my servant.”

“No. I want to know _exactly_ why you do those horrible things to him. You insult him. You beat him. You never give him a break. I want to know why.”

Mason eventually sat down beside Dipper, locking blue eyes with Dipper’s brown ones. “Because otherwise, he’ll fall out of line. Without the threat of punishment, he’ll disobey us, and that threat has to be very real to be effective.”

Mabel pulled Will over to the couch, sitting beside him while Dipper tried to reason with Mason. “That doesn’t make sense, though. Instead of making him live in constant fear of you, why don’t you trust him to obey you? Doesn’t he have to, anyways? Isn’t that a part of your deal?”

“…Yeah, but he’d whine about it.” Mason shot a fierce glare in Will’s direction. “And that’s what Great-Uncle Stanford always said to do. He said it works, because demons are shitty and manipulative by nature, so you need to control them with violence and authority. It makes Will a more efficient servant.”

“Have you ever considered that Stanford’s not being… honest?”

“Of course I have. The man lies through his teeth. But why would he lie about Will?”

“Why, indeed,” Will whispered, resting his head on Mabel’s shoulder.

Mason cleared his throat, not appreciating Will’s interruption. “Stanford wrote about it in his journals when he was younger. He said that Will was nice to him at first, but ultimately betrayed him. He wrote ‘trust no one’ in the journal. We can’t trust Will to just do as we say – we need to use force with him.”

“Master Stanford didn’t write that,” Will murmured, sitting up slowly. Suddenly, all the eyes in the room were on him. “…I did. Before he fell into the portal, _he_ betrayed _me_.”

“Don’t lie to us,” Mason said sharply. “I know you didn’t write that.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but it’s the truth. It’s in blue ink, isn’t it?”

“Anyone can write in blue ink, you-“

“For the rest of the journal, Stanford used black.”

Mason went quiet, staring at Will, dumbfounded. He was right. He couldn’t recall a single other page that used blue. “…That doesn’t prove you didn’t betray Stanford.”

“I suppose not.” Will put his head back down in Mabel’s lap. “Believe what you’d like, Master, but know that you’ve only ever heard Master Stanford’s side to the story.”

Dipper glanced between the two, feeling the tension between them rise. “…So, what’s your side?”

* * *

 

Will was excited to be summoned into the mind of a dweller of Gravity Falls. He’d always been fond of the bizarre little town tucked away in the middle of the forest, so when someone wanted him to visit, he was thrilled. He appeared in the dream of a young man with chocolate brown hair and bright blue eyes. He’s cute, Will thought, then noticed his fingers. Humans were supposed to have five on each hand, weren’t they? The man had six. “Six fingers. You’re unique! I like that.”

Stanford’s curious expression fell into one of wariness when Will commented on his fingers. “…You think they’re strange, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” The blue equilateral triangle floated over to Stanford and took one of his hands, feeling them, examining them. “I love strange! I think it’s cute how special all you humans are!”

The man blinked, clearly taken aback by Will’s forwardness, having never met someone who wasn’t looking to mock his deformity or treat him like a freak. “What are you?” softly escaped his lips.

Will, of course, knew better than to introduce himself as a demon. When he did so, humans became suspicious of him thanks to their preconceived notions about what demons were, equating them with the concepts of evil and the Devil. He certainly didn’t want to scare off this attractive young gentleman. “I’m what you would call a Muse,” he explained. “I’m here because you summoned me earlier. Remember the drawings on the cave wall? The triangle? That’s me! My name’s Will Cipher. Pleasure to meet you.”

“…I’m Stanford Gleeful,” murmured the man, eyes following the perfectly straight contours of Will’s shape. “Good to meet you, too.”

Will snapped his fingers, producing a chair from thin air beside Stanford, who turned warily to study it. “Have a seat,” he chirped, sensing his hesitance. “Let’s talk about why you summoned me! Or, if you prefer, we can talk about anything. Mathematics, philosophy, weird things… We could play a game of chess, even, or have some tea.”

When a glowing blue teacup appeared in Stanford’s hand, he tensed up and nearly dropped it, but soon relaxed and glanced inside. The tea looked normal enough – English Breakfast with a splash of milk. He took a sip and replied, “Let’s start with my reason for summoning you. I’m stumped by my research, you see, and needed the assistance of a powerful, otherworldly creature…”

For their entire conversation, Will found it difficult to concentrate – he was mesmerized by the man. His eyes, his six graceful fingers, his broad shoulders, strong chin, and impeccable fashion sense (a black trench coat over a white button down, black tie, and slacks? He looked so put-together!) entranced the demon. He agreed to help Stanford with his work, happy to show him what he knew about the abnormalities in Gravity Falls.

When Stanford asked for help building an interdimensional portal, Will gave him assistance without a second thought. This was his second mistake.

His first mistake was trusting Stanford Gleeful.

“I haven’t introduced you to my research assistant yet,” Stanford said one day while Will was showing him equations. “Fiddleford Hadron McGucket – I’m worried he won’t respond well to you. He’s a religious man, you see, and supernatural beings make him… uncomfortable.”

“Oh.” Will thought for a moment. “I can make a human form. It won’t really exist on your realm, you see, it’s just a projection, but it’ll make me less scary.”

“You’re not scary,” Stanford assured him. “But I think that will help.”

Stanford set up his dining room table for dinner, making room for three – himself, Will, and Hadron. A dinner was the perfect way for his assistant and Muse to become acquainted. However, he hardly recocgnized the young man who strolled into his house. He had skin darker than Stanford’s with a golden shimmer to it, wavy cerulean hair that was shorter on one side than the other, and he donned a teal damask blazer, a navy-blue bowtie, and a crisp white shirt. While on someone else, the attire would seem formal and stiff, it seemed to have an air of carefree playfulness to it. The man adjusted his jacket, then lifted his bangs to reveal a triangular eyepatch, and Stanford suddenly realized who this was. “What do you think?” he chirped. “Do I look okay?”

“You…” Stanford looked him over again. “…You look fantastic, Will. I had no idea you could do something like this…”

Will shrugged and made his way to the table, admiring the bouquet of white flowers that Stanford set out. He plucked one of the flowers and tucked it behind his ear. “It takes a lot of magic to project something like this, but it’s worth it, if your partner will like me more.”

“Hadron will like you just fine. Have a seat.” He pulled out Will’s chair for him. “Say, your bowtie matches my suit,” he remarked, comparing his jacket to Will’s accessory. He had chosen his dark blue suit for the dinner, deciding that black was to traditional.

“It does indeed! We’re matching!” Will smiled up at Stanford.

Hadron showed up within the next ten minutes, knocking politely at the front door (instead of waltzing in like Will had). Stanford showed him to the table, and he warily watched Will as he sat down. “Hadron,” said Stanford. “This is Will Cipher. He’s been helping me with the equations for the portal.”

“Nice to meet you,” Hadron said in a light Southern accent.

“Nice to meet you, too!” Will replied brightly. “Stanford’s told me so much about you!”

“And he’s told me nearly nothing about you.” Hadron glanced at Stanford, a bit puzzled. “You helped him with the math for the portal…?”

Stanford picked up a pitcher of water, filling their glasses. “Before we start discussing everything, let’s get dinner started.” He went to the kitchen and brought back a bowl of salad, setting it in the center of the table and smiling at his two friends. Once he’d seated himself and had a few bites, he began talking. “Hadron, you know that I couldn’t have done the math by myself. We were dealing with concepts that our language is too limited to even begin to explain. It’s thanks to Will that the project is nearly completed.”

“Is that so?” Hadron raised an eyebrow and pushed his circular spectacles up his nose. “You never told me about that before.”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” Stanford said apologetically. He glanced at Will, noticing that the demon hadn’t taken any salad. “He’s not a being of this world… He’s not human, is what I’m saying.”

Hadron looked at Will, too. “I figured. Is he some kind of queer thing from the town? The kind you write about?”

“First of all,” Stanford sighed. “Don’t call him a queer-“

“You know what I mean. Weird. An anomaly.”

Stanford coughed. “Right. Well, you can ask him yourself.”

Will blinked, then smiled. “I’m not ‘from’ the town, but I love it here! It’s a vacation spot. It’s interesting, you know? Like…” He extended his fingers out. “Like _wow!_ It’s a funny place. There’s so many unique things – including Stanford!” He fondly glanced at the man, who couldn’t help but blush and look away demurely. “Stanford summoned me, so here I am! Like he said, I’m not human. I’m a- a Muse. From another dimension.”

Hadron nodded slowly. “Stanford summoned you?” he repeated.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Stanford said. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t any kind of Satanic activity… I just read words from a cave wall, and he appeared to me in a dream… and this body of his is a projection, I believe?”

Will nodded. “Correct! It’s not real. It’s the only way I can be visible to the both of you without entering the mindscape.” He held up his hand, and a bouquet of glowing blue roses, reminiscent of the teacup Stanford drank out of during their first encounter. Then, in an instant, the roses vanished without a trace. “These are all magic projections. None of it’s real. It’s possible to make it real, but that’s another story…”

“We’ll discuss that later,” Stanford said to Will, and Hadron eyed his colleague, observing his fond smile when he spoke to Will. He’d never seen him smile like that – while working, he was stern and serious. A twinge of jealousy stung him, and he narrowed his dark eyes. Could it be that this paranormal being was controlling Stanford and influencing him? Or was Stanford entranced on his own?

He didn’t speak much for the rest of dinner, letting Will and Stanford chat as though they’d known each other for ages. Will had nothing to eat the entire time – his intangible body wouldn’t be able to digest it, but he politely sat still and engaged in conversation.

During the passing weeks, Will showed up more often while Hadron and Stanford were working, hugging Stanford and giving Hadron unsolicited advice about his math. He meant well, but Hadron began to withdraw from the two, showing up at Stanford’s mansion less often. In his opinion, Will and Stanford were too close. Will was constantly snuggling up to Stanford and Stanford reciprocated with warm smiles and gentle words.

Is this what Hadron left his wife for? In college, he was admittedly infatuated with Stanford (how could he resist? Stanford was so charming). However, he couldn’t admit to being in love with a man, so he married a pretty girl. He’d gotten along with her just fine, but pined for Stanford. The invitation to help him with his research had him immediately packing his things to move to Gravity Falls, but to find that Stanford already found a partner was pushing him to his limits. Instead of torturing himself by being around the lovebirds, he could have been elsewhere – raising his child, inventing things, studying – anything except this.

One evening, they had dinner together again, Hadron sparing malicious glances at Will every so often. After the meal, Stanford invited them to the porch for drinks and cigarettes. Hadron declined. Will trotted outside with Stanford, and Hadron immediately went to their workroom to quietly pack up his personal work. He was gone when the pair returned inside, and never returned.

“It’s just the two of us now,” Stanford sighed after a few days of waiting for Hadron. “I don’t think he’s coming back.”

“That’s unfortunate… Did he not like me?” Will asked softly.

“It wasn’t you,” Stanford reassured him. “Perhaps he lost faith in the portal project. But we can finish it without him.”

* * *

 

“Will, didn’t you mention a physical form?”

* * *

 

“Bill’s going to be so jealous,” Will murmured, extending his arm and admiring the hand on his new body.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Will beamed at Stanford. “I’m just happy to have a physical body! Look at this! Real human flesh!” He suddenly embraced Stanford, catching him off-guard. “You’re so warm! I love it!”

“Couldn’t you feel that before?” Stanford asked curiously, patting Will’s back.

Will hid his face in Stanford’s shirt, breathing in his comforting scent. “No… Not with the projection. But now… I can feel your body heat, and smell your cologne… I could digest food, too.”

Stanford pulled away from Will, smiling down at him and pondering the other possibilities of Will’s new body.

* * *

 

Their first kiss was shy, awkward, and fast. Stanford leaned in quickly and pecked Will’s lips one evening while they were cooking together. Will blinked, long eyelashes fluttering as he stared up at his partner. “…I’m sorry,” Stanford murmured, and took a step back. “Was that…?”

“That was fun,” Will replied, fingers brushing over his lips contemplatively, tracing Stanford’s touch. “I like it…”

After dinner, Stanford suggested they go outside. While Will was leaning on the porch banister, gazing up at the constellations, Stanford brought out his packet of cigarettes and a match. “You were born in mid-June, weren’t you?” Will asked. “Gemini?”

“Gemini,” Stanford confirmed, putting a cigarette between his teeth and lighting it. He joined Will at the banister. “The sign of the twin.”

Will became distracted, eyes transfixed on the glowing tip of the cigarette. “I’ve never tried one of those,” he murmured. “I’ve only seen you using them. May I…?”

Stanford nodded and got out another for him and lit it. Will looked at him, a bit puzzled until he instructed, “Inhale the smoke, then blow it out.”

Will did as he was told, but with his first drag, broke into a coughing fit, the foul taste and smell burning his throat and nose. “Is it supposed to be this bad?” he asked weakly. Stanford just laughed softly.

“You get used to it,” he told him, and took a long drag from his own.

“Why do you like these at all?” Will demanded, looking at his cigarette with a wrinkled nose. “They’re awful! And aren’t they bad for human bodies?”

Stanford agreed with a soft hum. “But they’re addicting, and they help me relax.”

Will sighed and shifted closer to Stanford. “I can’t imagine…”

“If the smell bothers you, you can go inside.”

“No… If cigarettes make you happy, I can tolerate being around them.”

* * *

 

Will sitting nude in Stanford’s bed, waiting for the man to undress, was a sight to behold. His sunny smile helped with Stanford’s nervousness, and his fingers worked faster to undo his shirt buttons. Once his shirt was off, he joined Will on the bed, starting off with sweet kisses and soon allowing his hands to explore his partner’s soft, youthful skin. The tips of Stanford’s fingers felt rough on such delicate flesh, but Will adored it. He arched into his touch and moaned into his mouth, making Stanford’s heart flutter.

Stanford, having hardly any experience with men, wasn’t sure how to navigate the situation. He tried to instruct Will, but wasn’t sure of the process himself. He fumbled with the lubricant and awkwardly told Will what was coming next, who simply went along with it, laying down and opening his legs.

The first finger went in smoothly. Will covered his mouth to muffle a moan. The second one took some work, and Stanford went slowly, worrying he’d hurt Will, but the demon was happy and relaxed until he pulled out his fingers a while later and unzipped his pants to free his erection.

“You’re okay with this, aren’t you?” Stanford murmured, picking up the lube again. “You can tell me to stop anytime.”

Will’s eye was glued to Stanford’s cock, admiring its size, but wondering if it would fit. His cheeks hot and flushed a beautiful red, he replied earnestly, “No, I want to.”

Stanford wiped his hands on the bedsheets before leaning over Will, the bed creaking beneath them as he gazed down at his partner, eyes gleaming lustfully while his free hand caressed Will’s hip. “Are you sure, my angel?”

The sweet nickname flustered the demon, and he blinked and stammered, “I-I’m sure, Stanford… Please… And call me your angel again…”

* * *

 

“Incredible,” Stanford murmured to himself, watching as the papercut on Will’s finger sealed itself within seconds. He made a note in a pocket-sized notebook. “What’s the extent of your healing powers?”

“I’m not sure,” Will admitted, holding out his hand for Stanford to observe. “I’m not used to the human body yet…”

Stanford nodded and capped his pen. “Do you mind if we run a few experiments?”

The notion of an experiment didn’t bother Will. He loved assisting Stanford with his research (although he worried about the accuracy of it – he’d never told Stanford of his species). He admired Stanford’s curiosity. However, he tended to get carried away.

“The restraints are so you don’t thrash around and hurt yourself,” he explained, strapping Will to the table in the basement lab. “Of course, if you do get hurt, you can just heal yourself, can’t you?” With a stopwatch looped around his neck and a surgical blade in one hand, he leaned over Will, smiling endearingly. Will swallowed his fear to smile back. After all, Stanford would treat him well. If something went wrong, he would apologize, wouldn’t he?

The blade digging into his arm elicited a whine of pain and made him dig his sharp teeth into his lip, drawing blood within seconds. He instinctively pulled against the straps on his wrists while Stanford sliced open a long strip of flesh. Then, he heard the small click from the stopwatch. “Start healing it,” he instructed, and Will focused his energy on the wound, letting his magic stitch his skin together. When his arm was fully healed, Stanford wrote down how long it took. “Fantastic,” he hummed. “Let’s do two more trials, take a break, and move on to other types of injuries…”

Will nodded slowly, closing his eye and letting Stanford slice open his other arm. It was bearable… He could manage it…

“You’re doing so well,” Stanford told him softly after recording the result of the third trial. “It looks like the amount of time it takes to heal an injury like that is increasing each time. Is it because you’re running out of magic?”

He blinked away tears to gaze at Stanford. “I suppose so… I’m getting tired.”

Stanford reached out, running his hand over Will’s hair. “Is it okay if I do two more trials?”

“…Break?”

“A break would ruin the results, my darling.” Stanford picked up a white cloth from the nearby bench, mopping up the blood pooled beneath Will. “Just two more… Then you can take a break.”

After Stanford was finished, he unstrapped Will, and helped him to his feet. “I’ll draw a bath for you,” he said, picking Will up and carrying him upstairs. While limp in Stanford’s strong arms, the demon gazed up at him, smiling faintly. Perhaps Stanford pushed his research too far (he’d even put unicorn hair in the restraints so Will couldn’t break them), but he remained thoughtful and compassionate.

The next day, the experiments continued. Will quietly expressed discomfort, but Stanford strapped him down anyways, assuring him that it would be fine. He revealed the tool he’d be using, and Will whimpered softly when his gaze fell upon the sharp, serrated saw. Stanford held it over Will’s smallest finger on his left hand. “Are you ready? This should only take a moment.”

Will bit his lip in anticipation, then found himself unable to muffle his shriek of pain when the appendage was cut through, sawed in half above the middle joint. The vivid sensation of the jagged metal grinding into the bone made him nearly ill. Once Stanford gave him the command, a new finger began to sprout, the bone forming first, then muscle and blood vessels blossomed over it, finally covered by flesh. It took just two minutes, but during that time, Will could feel black tears sliding down his cheek from beneath his eyepatch. Stanford, of course, noticed. “What’s that?” he asked softly, pushing back Will’s hair to get a closer look. Then, he rushed to his supplies cabinet and located a small glass vial, catching a few drops of the black slime.

“Tears,” Will murmured. “It hurt a lot…”

“Do you have an eye beneath the…?” When Will nodded, Stanford pulled off the black triangle, eyes widening at the sight of the galaxy. “What on Earth is this?”

“Something left over from my true form,” Will replied, but it sounded more like a guess than a definite response. “It’s sort of an endless abyss… And when something hurts too much, it… bleeds.”

“One moment.” Stanford rushed from the basement, returning within seconds, holding a polaroid camera. He took a photo of Will’s face, and once it developed, he tucked it into his notebook. “This is absolutely incredible. I always assumed there was nothing underneath your eyepatch.”

Will hummed softly. “I was worried it would scare your friend…”

Stanford undid the restraints, letting Will sit up. “You’re so concerned with making a good impression,” he observed. “Don’t worry, Will. I think you look lovely. That eye only adds to your beauty.”

Will blushed and leaned against Stanford. “Thank you…”

Putting an arm around him, Stanford asked, “What time tomorrow do you want to run more experiments?”

“…More?” Will shifted closer to the man. “I’d rather not. They’re exhausting. I think we should focus on the portal, instead.”

“But these experiments are incredibly valuable to my research,” Stanford insisted. “Please. Just a few more.”

* * *

 

Will could put up with having his limbs severed, his blood collected, his tears stored in vials on the shelves, his teeth extracted, and even his abdomen cut open to compare his insides to a normal human’s anatomy. He even let Stanford go to the forest and collect live specimens to dissect and taxidermy (but it made him extremely uncomfortable to watch innocent creatures die in Stanford’s lab).

He couldn’t put up with the portal. One glimpse inside told him exactly where the portal was connected – a dimension of horrific monsters who wanted nothing more than to cause chaos.

Confronting Stanford didn’t go as expected. “You can’t do this,” he insisted desperately, grabbing Stanford’s shirt collar. “Do you have any idea what this might unleash on your dimension?”

Calmly, Stanford brushed Will’s hands away. “Of course I do,” he answered, and glanced up at the portal, admiring its construction. “People will be terrified of monsters from another dimension. Out of fear, they’ll listen to me. I can control the entire population of Earth. And, if they don’t listen to me, I’ll bring in more monsters.”

“What?” Will gasped. “But how do you even know about that dimension? I thought we were trying to make interdimensional travel possible for your species!”

Stanford’s chilling smile filled Will with horrid dread. “I do recall saying that…But that was never my intention.”

“…You lied.”

“I suppose so.” Stanford nonchalantly walked up to the portal, standing just in front of the caution tape on the floor. “But regardless of the outcome, we’ve accomplished something great. Now, nothing’s stopping me from ruling this world. And you, Will… You'll join me.”

Will, still shocked, backed up, shaking his head. “I don’t want to…”

“But what would I do without my favorite demon?”

Will swallowed. “…I never told you I was a demon.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to. I knew the entire time.” Stanford chuckled. “A ‘Muse.’ What a joke. No, you’re a demon through and through, and thanks to the experiments I conducted, I know exactly how to harness your power now. You'll have no choice but to be at my side when I become the ruler."

“…Stanford,” Will said softly, watching him. His toes were just over the line of tape. He took a few steps forward. “You lied to me. You betrayed me.”

“I believe we already established that.”

Will took a deep breath. “You vile person,” he growled, and before Stanford had the chance to turn around, he shoved him forward.

Stanford stumbled toward the portal, then turned, blue eyes wide with terror as he tried to resist the gravitational pull of it. He was lifted into the air, now positioned in front of the center of the thing’s glowing, swirling mouth. While being dragged into it, an outstretched hand reached for Will. “Do something!” he commanded, voice cracking fearfully, but Will only stared up at him, silent as the portal swallowed him whole.

With Stanford gone, Will had free reign of the house. He didn't need it, though. Before abandoning his physical form, he first left a warning in Stanford’s third journal – both to himself, and anyone who came across that horrible man. Years later, when making a deal with the twins, he asked for their souls, knowing that a relationship that he didn't benefit from would likely end in nothing but misery. He only re-learned his lesson, though, when he was brought to the mansion and found himself face-to-face with Stanford Gleeful.

Trust. No. One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to writing this chapter for months. Please enjoy the horrible and heartbreaking WillFord. This chapter ran a little long, so Will's flashback will continue in the next one!


	16. Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an updated version of chapter 16, previously named "atonement" because Mason got too out-of-character! This chapter contains sexual assault, which is also in the archive warnings.

“You can’t do that,” Will whimpered, grabbing Mason’s arm before he was shoved away. “You can’t let him reopen the portal!”

Mason glanced at his sister, then looked back to Will, his expression neutral. “You can’t tell us what to do. Go make yourself useful.” Before Will could object, he added, “And according to the deal, you have to do everything we say.” He and Mabel then descended the basement stairs to watch as Stanley activated the portal. Will, too terrified to take a single step in the basement, remained upstairs, pacing back and forth anxiously until he heard the basement door creak open.

Stanley came up first, wearing an unreadable expression. He then stood to the side as the twins followed. Will felt a rush of relief.

Then, a silver-haired man in a tattered black coat appeared behind them. Hostile, gleaming blue eyes locked on Will immediately, forcing the demon to shrink back in fear. There was no mistaking that cold look. Thirty years later, he’d aged, his hair now gray instead of chocolate brown, he wore ragged, dirty clothes, and his face was wrinkled, but this was none other than Stanford Gleeful.

“Why, Will Cipher.” Stanford’s deceptively friendly smile struck Will with fear. The demon took a step back, his thoughts occupied with all the terrible things Stanford had done to him before he thrust him into the portal. “My old friend. How have you been? Well, I presume?”

When Will found that words escaped him, Mabel spoke up. “He’s our servant now.”

“You did mention a deal.” Stanford began to walk toward Will, his smile fading. “It’s peculiar that you made contact with him, because I did too, many years ago. Isn’t that right, Will?”

Mute, Will could only nod slowly.

“You did?” Mason tugged Stanford’s sleeve. “Tell us about it!”

“I will, in time,” Stanford promised. “But for now, let’s go to my office. Will included.” When Stanley started to follow his family upstairs, Stanford turned and coldly said, “You don’t have to join us. I think you should find something else to do.”

Will cast a sympathetic glance to Stanley, who dejectedly turned and wandered away. He then reluctantly followed the rest of the Gleefuls to Stanford’s office.

Stanford pushed open the grand and intricately carved doors, his steady gaze sweeping over his belongings. He went to the fireplace, which hadn’t been touched in years, running his finger over the mantle and picking up dust. He then made his way to his desk, seating himself behind it and eyeing the books on his desk. “Last time I was here, my third journal was here. Who has it now?”

“I do,” Mason proclaimed proudly. “It’s in my room.”

“I’d like you to bring it to me, as well as the others.”

Mabel and Mason then exchanged a nervous glance. “We don’t have one of them,” admitted Mason, his voice much quieter now. “Gideon does.”

“Who’s Gideon?” Stanford leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed. Will noticed Mason shift closer to his sister.

“He’s our rival. His dad’s business steals our customers… and he wants the journal because he doesn’t think we should be using it to summon demons.”

Stanford smirked and glanced at Will as he replied, “Why wouldn’t he want that? Look, you and your sister have done our family a great service by making Will our servant. Don’t worry, I’ll retrieve the journal from Gideon soon, but speaking of Will…” He sat up straight again and beckoned Will over with his finger. The demon had been standing off to the side, but with Stanford’s instruction, ended up beside the twins, just feet from the man.

Up close, Will could make out every detail of his aged face. Weathered, wrinkled skin, a bit of a stubble, a small crack in his glasses, and silver hair unkempt would have made anyone else appear like a harmless old man, but with time and whatever he’d experienced in the portal made him somehow more authoritative and terrifying than ever. His deep voice like gravel in his throat, he said to the twins while looking directly into Will’s eye, “What do you make Will do?”

“He cooks for us,” replied Mabel. “He makes our stage costumes, too. And he cleans our rooms and sometimes uses his magic on Gideon and Pacifica.”

“You have an extremely powerful demon at your disposal, and that’s all he does?” Stanford feigned shock, but Will could tell it was an exaggeration. Stanford never showed an emotion that strong. “He doesn’t need sleep, so he can work endlessly. You could make him clean this entire mansion in a day. And his magic? Don’t you know that he can share it with you?”

Will inwardly winced, regretting telling Stanford that such a thing was possible. The twins were looking excited in the worst possible way as he continued.

“And tell me, what do you do if he misbehaves?”

“I don’t,” Will whispered.

“…Or if he talks out of turn?” Stanford glared at Will. “Do you punish him?”

Mason shrugged. “Sometimes…”

“Children, it seems you need a lesson in owning a creature like this.” Stanford stood, and Will began to back away as he advanced on him, panic rising in his chest. “Lesson one: don’t let his magic go to waste. Use it whenever possible. Lesson two: punish him when he’s out of line.” When Will had his back pressed to the wall, Stanford’s hand shot out, grabbing his shirt collar so he could throw him violently to the ground. He placed his foot on Will’s chest, gradually adding weight to it until Will cried out in pain. “You see, they’re called ‘demons’ for a reason. They’re manipulative. They’re subhuman filth. They’re utterly vile. If you don’t show them who’s in charge and teach them lessons that  _stick_ -“ Stanford lifted his foot, letting Will curl up in the fetal position, “-They’ll turn around and betray you. Don’t be afraid to use force with him, because he can heal and regenerate any injury.”

The twins, much to Will’s dismay, enthusiastically agreed to be more violent, because that’s a good thing to tell morally ambiguous children with sociopathic tendencies. He groaned softly and stood just as Stanford was shooing the children from his office so he could speak to Will in private. Once they were alone, and the doors were securely shut, Stanford removed his coat and draped it over his chair. “I haven’t been at my desk in thirty years,” he said, mostly to himself, running his fingers over the mahogany. “Thirty years,  _wasted_  on struggling to survive in the multiverse, and all because I was pushed into the portal of my own creation.”

Will, one hand on his bruised rib, watched Stanford warily. “That’s thirty years that this dimension was safe from you,” he said, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

He saw Stanford’s jaw twitch as he clenched his teeth. “I only wished to help the world.”

“I didn’t see it that way.” Will gently pressed on the bruise, feeling the pain fade his magic took care of it. “And I want you to stop lying to the twins. I’m not evil, and I won’t betray them. I’m loyal to my deal with them.”

A slight smirk turned up the corners of Stanford’s thin lips. “I know that.”

“Don’t tell me you’re lying as petty revenge.”

“Petty?” Stanford began to walk toward Will in his typical fashion – slowly, threateningly, as to intimidate his adversary. Will instinctively backed up. “You dare call this petty? Can you imagine if something went wrong, and the portal killed me upon contact with it? Alternatively, what if I died in the multiverse? Revenge, in my opinion, is perfectly logical.” Six fingers curled around Will’s shirt collar, drawing him closer while he added in a quieter but more menacing voice, “You’re going to suffer for what you did to me.”

Will knew, logically, that he could fight Stanford off with magic. In an instant, he could use a burst of power to throw Stanford across the room, or melt his hand, or even turn him to stone, but another, stronger part of him couldn’t bring himself to react at all. He felt trapped, a prisoner of his physical form conditioned to fear Stanford and submit to him. So, he only stared up the man that towered over him, sweat rolling down his neck as he said meekly, “If I hadn’t done it, you would have done evil things with the portal…”

Stanford’s grip tightened, jolting Will with fear. “How can you call me evil?” he demanded. “After how close we were? Don’t you remember the intimate moments we shared?”

“…Yes,” Will replied quietly, eyeing the door. Could he make a run for it?

While he was pondering escape, he didn’t notice Stanford’s fingers subtly undoing his bowtie, only realizing it when it was undone and Stanford was working on his top shirt button. “You remember how wonderful it was, then?” Stanford murmured, his aggression seemingly dissipated. “I certainly haven’t forgotten. Those memories comforted me when I was alone in other dimensions…”

Will let out a quiet whine. Of course, he remembered… But he also remembered being tortured with depraved experiments that left him agonized and drained of magic. Timidly, he reached up to push Stanford away, but his former partner persisted. When his shirt was open enough to expose his chest, he finally spoke up in protest. “Don’t…”

“I missed you, Will.” Stanford placed both hands on Will’s shoulders to hold him against the wall. “It’s been three decades. Let me do this.”

When Will turned his head to the side, reluctant to look Stanford in the eye out of discomfort, Stanford leaned in and kissed his neck, drawing a surprised squeak from the demon. He pushed, harder this time, against Stanford. “Stop it!”

“Is that any way to speak to your new Master?” Stanford hummed, standing up straight. Will’s arms were losing their strength. “I’m in the one in charge here. I want you to be quiet and put your hands down.”

Merely out of ingrained fear, Will slowly put his hands at his sides, letting Stanford resume kissing his neck. The sensation was nostalgic, intimate, and the involuntary physiological response was inevitable, but he despised Stanford still, and the thought of resuming a sexual relationship with this traitorous monster – he was disgusted.

In spite of his disgust, he could barely fight back. What would happen if he did? Would Stanford pull out a weapon and hurt him? Would he hit him, or berate him? Would he tell the twins worse lies? When Stanford dragged him to the desk and pushed him against it, he showed little resistance, even staying silent when he was disrobed.

It was painful – Will wasn’t the least bit relaxed; Stanford wasn’t the least bit gentle. He bit any exposed skin he could, littering it with possessive red and purple splotches and teeth marks. The kisses on Will’s lips tasted foul and tainted with Stanford’s wickedness. The intercourse was the worst, forcing screams from Will before Stanford hushed him, saying that the twins would hear him. He covered his mouth, doing his best to muffle them.

Stanford emerged from his office after the event, but Will remained, crouched beside the desk, trying to dry his tears.

It wasn’t until years later that the twins understood why sometimes, rhythmic squeaking of furniture accompanied by Will’s cries emanated from Stanford’s office or bedroom. They assumed Will was being tortured, but Will could never bring himself to explain,  _your great-uncle is forcing me to have sex with him for punishment or catharsis_  to them. They were strange but extremely sheltered kids, and knew more about how to hide a dead body than about sex. He didn’t want  _that_ to be their introduction to the birds and the bees.

While Stanford was adjusting to a normal life in his original dimension, Will witnessed him fight with his brother many times. Stanford often harshly scolded Stanley for misusing his home – not keeping the house clean enough, not utilizing the space, or utilizing space that he wasn’t supposed to. Stanley, while typically humble and passive, confronted Stanford about his unpleasant habits. “You can’t smoke indoors,” he said one day when he caught Stanford with a cigarette in his office.

“It’s just one cigarette, Stanley, and I’ve opened the windows,” replied Stanford coldly.

“Things have changed since you were gone.” Stanley marched up to Stanford’s desk and gestured to the small ashtray. Stanford only glared in response. “It’s not acceptable to smoke inside anymore. Plus, that stuff’s horrible for Mason’s lungs.”

Stanford, to make a point, took a long drag and blew the smoke in his brother’s direction. “What’s the matter with, specifically,  _his_  lungs?”

After coughing and waving the smoke away, Stanley said, “He has a bad immune system. The doctor said he needs to take good care of that whole respiratory system or whatever – that smoke could hurt him. It’s not great for you, either.”

“Really? I thought inhaling carcinogens was good for my health,” said Stanford sardonically. He then glanced at Will, who’d been dusting the mantle of the fireplace. “Will, come.”

When Will stood at his side, Stanford took the demon’s hand and extinguished the cigarette on it, holding it firmly while Will tried to jerk it back reflexively. He didn’t scream, but his pained expression made Stanley wince, too. “What was that for? You’ve got a perfectly good ashtray right there,” Stanley said.

“Why are you still here? I’ve put out the cigarette. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

Stanley bit the inside of his cheek, then turned and left the office. Will dismissed himself too, hurrying to the bathroom to fetch ice for his hand. Stanford leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily as he watched his servant go.

Worst of all, while the twins were growing up, Will had to watch them try and imitate and impress Stanford. It was awful to hear these impressionable little things say that they wanted to grow up to be just like him. They were awed by his strength, his authority, his masculinity, his wealth. They just couldn’t understand his true nature. He didn’t dare tell them that their idol was evil. They would dismiss him, and Stanford would punish him. He’d call it an act of manipulation, an attempt to turn Mabel and Mason against him, and he’d surely make an example of Will by punishing him cruelly.

Eventually, he adjusted to his position as servant. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t harm your masters. Don’t let harm come to your masters. Be polite, be diligent, follow their rules, give them your magic. It was utterly degrading to go from a demon to a plaything.

But he kept telling himself – unlike his relationship with Stanford, he’d gain something from the ordeal. He’d get those souls. He’d triumph in the end.

* * *

 His story finished, Will went quiet while curling up closer to Mabel. She petted his hair soothingly. “I’m sorry that happened,” she murmured. “Stanford Gleeful is really terrible, and you didn’t deserve any of that.”

Mason scowled and crossed his arms. “We all know Stanford’s the worst, but how do we know any of that’s true?”

“Why can’t you just trust him?” Mabel asked, returning his hostility with a glare.

“Because he’s a demon. It’s his nature to be…” Mason was starting to trail off. “…manipulative… and...”

“Which, as you just realized, was a lie that Stanford made up,” Dipper added with a sigh. “That’s how he got revenge on Will. He made you believe Will’s evil.”

“But-“ Mason looked to Will, who looked back with a slow blink. With his expression a mixture of frustration and embarrassment over realizing the extent of Stanford’s lies, he sighed and said, “If you’re telling the truth, that’s all the more reason for me to despise that man.”

After the next few moments passed in silence, Dipper said, “So, are you going to apologize to Will for how you treated him?”

Mason ran his fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t  _going_  to.”

“You should,” Dipper urged him. “I think he deserves an apology.”

Mason argued, of course. “He deserves an apology from Stanford. I didn’t do anything wrong. Everything that happened to him is because of Stanford’s lies. It’s not my fault I hurt Will because of it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Mabel pointed out, protectively hugging Will like she was shielding him from Mason’s absurd logic. “Just because Stanford made you hurt him, doesn’t mean you didn’t hurt him.”

“Actually, it does.”

“It doesn’t,” Dipper growled. “Mason, you need to apologize… and reconsider your deal with him.”

Mason gave Dipper an incredulous, one intended to make Dipper feel like an idiot for suggesting such a thing. “Are you joking? Do you have any idea how important our deal is? Will, back me up.”

“…I’ve actually been waiting for an appropriate time to bring it up, sir. I’d also like to reconsider it.”

“You’re an idiot,” Mason hissed through clenched teeth, standing up. He intended to hit Will, but Dipper grabbed his shoulders and forced him to sit back down. He reluctantly did so. “You need our souls.”

“No, I don’t,” Will murmured, taking Mabel’s hand and squeezing it. He felt so safe with her – she’d never let Mason hurt him. “I  _want_  your souls. You need me more than I need you.”

Mason clenched his fists. “I don’t  _need_  you. I  _want_  you as a servant. The problem is, Stanford will be upset if I release you from the deal.”

“Then that’s perfect,” Dipper interrupted. “Mason, this is your chance to get back at Stanford for lying to you and abusing you.” When Mason quieted down to listen, Dipper continued. “If he tries to hurt you for it, you can hide here. But think about how distressed he’ll be when he finds out he can’t control Will anymore.”

They gave Mason a minute to think. He took his options into deep consideration and concluded, quite quickly, that he might never have another chance to get back at Stanford for his history of deceit.  He then nodded slowly and lifted his gaze to Will. Then, he stood, straightening his posture and looking Will in the eye. “…Let’s do it. Let’s break the deal. To be clear,” he added, “This isn’t for your benefit. It’s because Stanford lied to me about everything, beat me, destroyed my medication, and stole my sister from me.”

Will rose from the couch, cautiously leaving Mabel’s side.  _Was this a trick? Or was this really the end of their deal? Was it truly worth it to surrender those souls for his freedom?_

* * *

 At midnight, Mabel Gleeful was supposed to be in bed. For years, their designated bedtime was ten o’clock, and they weren’t supposed to wander the house past bedtime. She, however, hadn’t seen her brother since dinner, and was kept awake by her curiosity (and admittedly, worry) about where he went.

When she still couldn’t sleep, she quietly escaped her room and went to the house’s library, wondering if she could find a book to take her mind off of her brother. The moonlight from the windows her only source of light, she went to Mason’s favorite chair and picked up the book sitting beside it – their family history. She flipped through the pages, skimming the text. Everything seemed so boring. Why did Mason even read it in the first place? Then, she found the diagram of the family tree. She placed her finger at the top, tracing her way down.

She had no experience reading family trees, so it took her a while to understand what all the branches meant, and how to see relations. She didn’t hear Stanford’s footsteps in the hall.

The sudden movement in her peripheral vision made her gasp and slam the book shut, her heart nearly stopping as she stared wide-eyed at her great-uncle. He stared back, his arms crossed. “What are you doing?” he asked, moving further into the room, his face lit up by the moonlight. “It’s late.”

After calming herself down, Mabel shakily replied while setting the book down, “I was just wondering what Mason got so worked up over at dinner…”

“And did you find what you were looking for?” Stanford’s voice was unreadable, and with only the faint white glow from the windows, Mabel couldn’t tell what kind of answer he was looking for.

“…I don’t know. I found the book, but I didn’t get the big deal,” she stammered.

“I don’t, either. He overreacted, in my opinion.” Stanford moved closer to her and put his hand on her back to lead her out of the library. “You should be off to bed, my dear. Sleep is important for someone your age.”

* * *

 “Wait,” said Mason, pulling his hand back hastily. He’d been about to shake Will’s hand to break the deal, but doubt surfaced in his mind. “Can I sleep on it?”

“The longer you wait, the more time you give Master Stanford to figure out we’re gone,” Will pointed out, keeping his own hand extended expectantly. “What if he comes looking for us? We should do this sooner rather than later.”

“I’m just… not sure if this is what I want.”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Mason, think about other people for once. Just do this for Will…”

Mason glanced back at his doppelganger, scowling. “I do think about other people, if you’re implying I’m a narcissist.”

“Then prove it. Shake his hand,” Dipper urged him.

After a slow, deep breath, Mason held out his hand again. Will glanced down, noticing its tremors. Clearly, the boy understood the sheer weight of breaking the deal. He’d lose his loyal servant, and Stanford would be furious with him. Perhaps Mason also realized that if Will had his magic restored, and had no restrictions on how he could use it, he was more than capable of exacting revenge on the Gleeful family (would he? Will wasn’t sure himself. On one hand, they deserved it, but on the other, Will promised himself to never act impulsively out of anger. Good things never came from violent revenge). If Mason was aware of this, he was placing an enormous amount of trust in Will to not kill him the instant the deal was broken. Will admired his confidence – or naivety?

“Explain the terms before we shake hands,” Will said softly, gazing at Mason. “Tell me what this will do.”

“Once we shake hands,” Mason began, his gaze locking with the demon’s, “Our previous contract will be broken. You’ll no longer have control of my soul, nor my sister’s, and you’ll no longer be our servant. We won’t share your magic anymore. You won’t have to obey us.”

Will nodded approvingly, and the instant their palms touched, a golden flame erupted between them, engulfing their hands. From behind them, Mabel gasped softly, thinking it was real fire, until she saw that neither Will nor Mason was in pain. Rather, Will had his eyes closed, wearing a blissful expression as he radiated a magical, mysterious aura.

When they released each other’s hands, the glowing blue chains on Will’s wrists flashed into view. They’d always been there, only coming into view when he wanted them to. Now, they were breaking off, the shackles opening and releasing his wrists. Will held up his hands to watch with his single shining eye as the chains fell to the ground and completely vanish from sight.

“I’m free,” Will whispered, and grinned at Mason. “You did it. You freed me. And my magic… I can feel it coming back!” He laughed aloud. There was something so pure about his laugh – he rarely laughed, but when it came out, it was bubbly, sweet, and brought a smile to Dipper and Mabel’s faces.

Mason, on the other hand, took a few steps back, his eyes darting over Will. His appearance changed – not physically, but he was an entirely different person with his happy smile and radiant aura. He even appeared to be standing a little straighter. “Yeah, no problem,” he said uncertainly.

“Mason.” For the first time in seven years, Will addressed him casually. The boy blinked, unused to this. “You feel like you’ve made the wrong decision, correct? You're worried I'll harm you now?”

Was Will reading his mind? Mason nodded.

“Don’t worry. I’m incredibly grateful.” Will took a few steps toward Mason, warmly smiling. “You turned your back on what your family wanted and gave up your servant… That was an incredibly difficult decision for you to make. And if you apologize, I can easily forgive you for how you hurt me – the beatings, the cruel punishments, the constant insults, cutting off my ear and making me eat it, severing my tongue, treating me like a dog to feed your desire to be in control of something – I’ll never forget it, but I won’t hold it against you.”

To have his sins recited pricked Mason with guilt, but he knew for a fact that Will's abuse wasn't his fault. “Sorry," he said curtly and awkwardly. "I wish Stanford didn't lie to us about you."

 Will nodded, but didn't look quite satisfied. "Can you apologize, now, for your own actions, instead of blaming Stanford for everything?"

"But everything I did was because of him."

"Mason!" Mabel sighed, exasperated. "You still hurt him! Say you're sorry and mean it!"

Will waved his hand dismissively. "I don't know if he'll ever understand... He was spoiled growing up, save for the occasional beating from Stanford. He has no idea how to take responsibility."

Mason narrowed his eyes. "Listen, demon," he said coldly, sticking his finger in Will's face. "I don't want to hear that from you."

Will raised his eyebrows slightly, grabbed Mason's wrist, and began to squeeze until the boy cried out and tried to jerk his hand away. "Listen, Mason," Will said in the same tone, mocking him. "I haven't forgiven you yet, so watch your tone around me, or I'll tear out your vocal cords. Understand?"

For a few seconds, it didn't register in Mason's mind, but once it hit him, his eyes widened with fear. Will had all of his magic. Mason had none, and nothing was stopping Will from treating him the same way he was treated when he was a servant. The gravity of the situation struck him, and he began to pull harder until Will released him, letting him stumble back toward Dipper and Mabel. Will just smiled cheerfully, which only served to unnerve Mason further. "I won't go out of my way to harm you. We have a common enemy, after all - Stanford Gleeful - and I want to work with you to get revenge on him. But please keep in mind that I'm not your slave anymore, and I won't tolerate being ordered around."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I changed things! In the first version of the chapter, Mason felt guilt, but that was rushed character development. He's still a narcissistic little jerk!!


	17. Civil

That night couldn’t have been more uncomfortable for Mason. Not only did he have to sleep on the uncomfortable air mattress in the living room of the Pines family, but Will was on the couch just feet away from him, resting peacefully. His threats from earlier plagued Mason’s anxious mind, keeping him awake for hours. What if Will tried to kill him in his sleep as revenge for everything that he’d done to him? He quietly pulled the blanket over his head, finding an odd, childish comfort in being covered by it, as though it would shield him and protect him.

As he grew more exhausted, he emerged from his blanket cocoon while his mind wandered. He thought back to his late childhood, when he had anxiety symptoms, but hadn’t figured out why. He frequently had insomnia on nights before their Tent of Telepathy shows, and secretly called Will into his room to make him a cup of hot chocolate and tell him a calming story or a sing a lullaby to put him to sleep. It was a bit embarrassing to remember – it felt like such a childlike thing to need help sleeping, but it worked, didn’t it?

Although he was scared of Will, he slowly turned over and whispered into the dark. “Will?”

“Mm… What is it?”

“Sorry to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep.”

Goosebumps pricked Mason’s skin. Was Will watching him this entire time? He caught a glimpse of Will’s single wide eye, moonlight from the windows reflecting off his iris. “…I can’t sleep,” he said tentatively. “Since you’re awake, can you tell me a story?”

He heard Will yawn, then murmur, “I suppose I could, but I’ll need your soul in exchange for it… I’m joking. What kind of story do you want to hear?”

“Something I can relate to?” Mason suggested.

“I can do that… Once upon a time, there was a prince. He didn’t have many friends and he kept himself locked away in his room. The king didn’t like him very much, so he hit him. The prince was angry at this, so he took out his anger on his servant. The servant then put poison in the prince’s and the king’s dinner. They both died, and in the afterlife, learned that they should have been nicer to-“

Mason cut him off. “I get it. If you don’t want to tell me a story, you don’t have to.”

He heard Will laugh softly to himself. “Wait, I have another…”

“Goodnight, Will,” he said rudely, and pulled the blankets over his head again.

 _…Poison would have been the perfect way to kill the Gleeful family_ , he realized, still unable to sleep. If Will wasn’t bound to the contract, unable to harm his masters, he could have easily slipped something toxic into their dinner, and they never would have noticed. Will didn’t plan to kill _him_ like that, did he?

Mason was running on a solid twenty minutes of sleep the next day. He dragged his sluggish body off the mattress and dressed himself in his clothes from the previous day. Before putting on his bolo tie, he hesitated – did he really need that gem? It was no longer a vessel for Will’s power. He examined the turquoise jewel, and noticed that it had lost its luster. Even directly under the yellowish bathroom light, it didn’t glow the way it used to, looking more like dull, plastic costume jewelry instead of a container for demonic magic. But, he felt strange without it on, so he tied it around his shirt collar like he always did and went to the kitchen.

Much to his dismay, Will was making breakfast for everyone, setting out six plates on the counter and piling them high with potatoes, eggs, and sausages. He watched him for a moment, wondering which plate would be handed to him. _Had Will planned it out beforehand? Was the poison already in his food?_ “I’m not that hungry,” he said to the demon, and opened the fridge to find something untouched, something safe to eat. He pulled out a piece of bread and some jam, brought the bread to the toaster, then paused. “…How do you use this?”

Will glanced over. “You put the bread in the slot.”

“Do I put the jam on before or after I toast it?”

“…After.” Will turned away, trying to hide his amused smile. “Are you sure you don’t want food that’s already cooked?”

“No, it’s too much for me to eat,” Mason lied, dropping the bread in the toaster. He didn’t dare touch the dials with the numbers on them – he had no idea what they meant. “I’m just having this and coffee.”

Will blinked. “I forgot to start making it!” he said, and reached for the coffee maker, but Mason’s hand shot out, claiming it first.

“I got it.” He didn’t trust Will not to poison that, too. Then, he stared blankly at the machine. “Um, how do I…?”

“Put water in it, then put coffee grounds in the filter on top,” Will said, and began taking the plates to the kitchen table. “And press start.”

Mason blinked, experimentally opening a compartment on the coffee maker. He had no idea what Will was talking about, so he stood to the side and crossed his arms. “You do it. I’ll watch you.”

Once the table was set, Will set up the coffee maker and turned it on, then turned to Mason with a mischievous smirk. “It’s alright to admit that you have no idea how to cook or take care of yourself. Do you need me to teach you?”

“Don’t be smug,” Mason snapped as he felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Just because I don’t know how to use kitchen appliances…”

“…Or put on your tie straight…”

“…Doesn’t mean you can mock me,” Mason finished, hands flying up to fix his tie.

“I honestly don’t think you can survive without a servant.”

Mason heard footsteps coming downstairs, so he raised his voice to make his point clear to everyone in the house. “Shows how much you know. Once I move out of Stanford’s house, I’ll get my own house, and I’ll live on my own!”

Dipper and Mabel entered the kitchen, and Dipper commented, “Ambitious,” before sliding into a seat at the table. “Doesn’t Stanford take your money? How are you going to buy a house?”

Mason huffed, ignoring Will’s grin. “I’ll get another job, obviously.”

“Another job? In your condition?” Will asked. “Where do you expect to find work where you won’t be at risk for getting sick again?” When Mason didn’t reply, he continued. “And how will your job pay for your house, your replacement immunoglobin treatments, your antibiotics, your anxiety medication, and your food and transportation?”

“…Will, be quiet.”

“By keeping your Tent of Telepathy earnings and paying for your medical treatments, Stanford’s forcing you to be dependent on him,” the demon added, nonchalantly trotting over to the fridge to get out cold beverages. “He never taught you about finances, or how to be independent, because he doesn’t want you to be. Your options now are to go home and live with him, or go into the streets, catch a cold, and die.”

The grim realization that Will was right struck Mason _hard_. His expression blank as he processed Will’s heavy words, he sat down beside Mabel, running his fingers through his hair.

 “Hey, where’s Ford?” Dipper asked just as Stan came into the kitchen, joining them. His question was a distraction from what Will said – he didn’t want to make Mason contemplate his own mortality. He seemed distraught enough.

“He was up all night working on something,” Stan replied, sitting beside Mason, who was still staring off into space. “He should be up soon for coffee.”

Will started pouring a few mugs of coffee. “Do you want milk or sugar?” he asked the family.

“Milk, please,” said Stan.

“No coffee for me,” replied Mabel.

“I have mine with almond milk and sugar,” Dipper added.

Mason gingerly pressed his fingers to the bruise on the back of his head. “…Almond milk and sugar, too,” he mumbled, turning to watch Will. Just in case. “You know that already.”

Will made their drinks and put them in front Dipper and Stan, but when Mason reached for his, Will withheld it. “Say please and thank you.”

“What the hell?” Mason scowled. “Just give it to me.”

“I don’t owe you this,” Will pointed out. “This is a favor to you, not an obligation, so say please and thank you.”

“Please and thank you.”

Will stubbornly held onto the mug.

“…Fine. _Please_ , give me my coffee,” he sighed, too groggy to argue or expend energy on sarcasm. Will finally handed it to him. “ _Thank_ you.”

The sound of Stanford’s footsteps, though, startled him and nearly had him jumping to his feet. He sat straight up, at attention, heart suddenly pounding, pulsing against his skin like it wished to push through his ribcage and jump out. Great-Uncle Stanford was _here_. He’d tracked him down and found him, he had nothing to protect himself with, he was going to-

Ford Pines walked into the kitchen instead, yawning and adjusting his glasses. “Good morning,” he greeted everyone sleepily. “Will, you made breakfast? That’s very nice of you.”

“It’s the least I can do for you,” Will replied. “Oh, do you have more chairs? There’s not enough space for all of us…”

“Not in the kitchen… That’s okay, I’ll stand.” He took a cup of black coffee from Will, then thanked him as he was handed his breakfast. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!”

Mason watched Ford warily as he slid back into his seat. He was certain that Stanford was coming down the hall… But that didn’t make much sense, did it? Stanford had no way to come to this dimension. He was being so illogical. He could feel Dipper and Mabel’s eyes on him. Great, now they were judging him for being so jumpy.

A piece of jam-covered toast was placed in front of him. He glanced up to see Will’s smiling face. “Thanks,” he said reluctantly, and glanced down at it. He hadn’t even heard it pop up, nor had he seen Will put jam on it. This, too, could be poisoned.  He didn’t touch it.

While everyone else was finishing their meal, Mason hadn’t taken a single bite of toast. “Still not hungry?” Will asked while taking away the empty plates.

“…I don’t trust it.”

“Why not?” Mabel asked, butting into the conversation. Didn’t she know how rude that was? Mason glared at her.

“Because I wasn’t watching Will when he put the jam on it. Who knows what he could’ve done to it?”

The expression of confusion that befell Will had Mason wondering if it was genuine, or just some trick to manipulate him into feeling guilty for the accusation. “What would I have done to it?”

“Poisoned it, obviously,” he said pointedly. “Just like you said you would last night.”

“I didn’t say that…”

With the attention of the Pines family captured, Mason knew this was a perfect time to call out Will. “Yes, you did,” he growled. “You said you’d poison my food and kill me because you wanted me to learn a lesson about being ‘nicer’ to you.”

Before Mabel and Dipper could jump in to defend Will, the demon sighed softly and said, “I didn’t say that. I was telling you a fictional story, but I have no interest in taking your life.”

“What? Are you fucking kidding? You-“ Face red with anger, Mason balled up his fists, resisting the urge to lash out and strike Will. He had to remind himself, Will wasn’t his servant anymore. He couldn’t punish him for that. “-You said you would!”

“I told you a story about a king, a prince, and a servant,” Will replied calmly. “I obviously was alluding to Stanford, you, and myself, but the poison was a metaphor for your family’s current lack of servant. Once you realize how much I did for you, you’ll all wish you treated me better. Again, I apologize for the misunderstanding.”

Mason had gone from anxious to unbelievably frustrated. Was his entire time staying with the Pines going to be filled with Will humiliating him? He swiftly left the kitchen, going upstairs to where he could find some sanctuary. The attic room sufficed.

When there was a knock on the door, he didn’t respond, but Dipper stepped inside anyways, closing the door behind him. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m pissed at Will. He’s _trying_ to embarrass me in front of everyone.”

“I don’t think so,” Dipper objected politely. “Look, that whole thing was a misunderstanding. Hey, do you want some of my anxiety medication?”

“Sure.” He watched as Dipper got his prescription bottle. He couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous that he still had it, and Mason’s was destroyed.

“Mason,” Dipper said softly, handing him a pill. “I saw you getting nervous when Ford came into the kitchen. Do you want to talk about it? Sometimes talking it through helps me.”

“…There’s nothing to talk about. I thought he was Stanford and panicked.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Whatever.” He swallowed the pill and awkwardly thanked him for it, but didn’t say much after that, too busy thinking about what he was going to do about his great-uncle.

* * *

 

Stanford cooked breakfast for himself and Mabel once they figured that Will wasn’t coming back that morning. Not nearly as skilled as Will, he set down two plates of mediocre toast and eggs at their places. “That demon…” he sighed, shaking his head as he sat down, picking up his fork. “We’ll punish him when he gets back. Being late with our meals is inexcusable.”

Mabel nodded in agreement. “What about Mason, though? Shouldn’t he be back by now, too?”

“I don’t care where Mason is,” said Stanford as he dug into his meal. “If he doesn’t want to join us, that’s his choice.”

“…But we have a show soon. He needs to be back to perform.”

“Not necessarily.” Stanford’s nonchalant tone made Mabel furrow her brow in confusion. “You’ve performed without him before, when he was sick.”

Mabel tapped her fork lightly against her plate, not yet eating. “But Will was his substitute…”

“We’ll find you another substitute.” Before Mabel could inquire about the details (who could replace Mason or Will?), Stanford changed the subject. “I wanted to talk about something else this morning. You’re turning twenty at the end of the summer. The time just flies, doesn’t it? I think it’s about time you started thinking about your future.”

“My future? I already know I’m gonna be a researcher. Why do we need to talk about it?”

“No, beyond that… We need to discuss what you’re going to provide for the Gleeful family.”

Apprehension pricked her. _Provide?_ Just what was expected of her? “…I’m going to make money from whatever I’m researching. That, plus inheritance money, should be enough-“

“I’m talking about starting a family.”

She swallowed. The idea of getting married and having children was completely foreign to her. It still felt like she was so young and unprepared for such a responsibility. Besides, she didn’t even have an idea of who she wanted to marry. She’d never dated anyone. “Why talk about it now? I shouldn’t have to think about that for another five or ten years.”

“I disagree.” Stanford set down his fork. “You should be thinking about it as early as possible. I know up until now, you’ve been focusing on your studies, but it’s time that you considered this seriously. It’s part of your duty as a member of the Gleeful family to produce at least one heir to the fortune that you’ll inherit from me.”

Mabel pushed her chair out an inch, but didn’t get up. She wasn’t comfortable leaving, not with Stanford’ gaze trained on her like that. “Okay, but I don’t want to have a child right now. I’ll think about it in five years. And won’t my child take my husband’s last name? That’s not really beneficial to our family name, is it?” Stanford was obsessed with their ‘family name’ – not only were they expected to keep it pure, but he always talked about the future generations of Gleefuls.

“It’s possible for them to take your name – and they will.”

“Good to know.”

He picked up on her sarcasm. “Mabel, take this seriously.”

“Take _me_ seriously,” she replied sharply. “I’m not ready to start a family, and you won’t even let me date anyone. How am I supposed to find a boyfriend?”

Stanford nodded and replied, “So many men out there will pursue you solely for sex. You’re a desirable young woman, after all.” Mabel shifted uncomfortably in her seat, itching to excuse herself from the table. “I’ll find a suitor for you, don’t worry. It’ll be someone with good genes, so your child will be healthy and as beautiful as you.” He paused, glancing at her plate. “You haven’t touched your breakfast.”

“…I’m not hungry.” She promptly stood and left the dining room, the clicks of her heels on hardwood floor echoing as she walked out.

* * *

 

“Do you ever have nightmares?”

“Oh, yeah. All the time.”

The pair was hanging out in Dipper’s room and sitting on his bed, while everyone else was downstairs. To Dipper, it felt nice to be alone with Mason. The Gleeful boy had gone from a scary nemesis to an ally, much like Pacifica and Gideon had, and he liked the feeling of making a new friend. “That’s definitely an anxiety thing. What do you have nightmares about?”

Mason looked reluctant to admit it, but since Dipper was the only one listening to him, he replied softly, “I have a recurring one about going to the doctor and – this is weird – he sticks a needle in my arm, and it sucks out all of my blood and when I panic, I wake up.”

“That’s not weird. Sounds like a fear of needles?” Dipper guessed.

“I’m not afraid of needles,” Mason snapped. “Doctors have been sticking them in me for years.” His malicious tone faded as he added, “I think I’m afraid of dying.”

“I have dreams where I’m dying, too,” Dipper replied with a nod of understanding. “Oh, do you ever have dreams where you’re in danger, but can’t scream?”

“Definitely,” replied Mason. He was relaxing a bit, and opening up more to Dipper. _Progress,_ Dipper thought. “I hate those ones. Or the ones where you’re falling?”

“I had one of those last night! Then, I woke up, fell asleep, and had another nightmare! That one was about…” Dipper hesitated, the vivid recall giving him goosebumps. “…Mabel died. I was holding her body… I think Ford was also dead… Actually, I can’t talk about it, or I’m going to start crying.” He let out an awkward laugh.

Mason gazed at him, blue eyes curious. “You and Mabel are close, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, of course. But you’re not close to your sister, are you?”

The Gleeful boy ran his fingers through his hair. “No. We used to be. Recently, we’ve kissed, but I feel like she’s gotten closer to Stanford than-“

“Kissed?” Dipper interrupted.

“…Yes.”

Dipper’s pointed look wasn’t enough to prompt elaboration, so he asked, “You mean kissing on the cheek, right?”

Mason blinked. “Sometimes. Usually on the lips. And the neck. But I’m not interested in that anymore since I read our family history book. She’s the one who makes the first move.”

Dipper found himself nearly speechless, staring at Mason like he had two heads. “You’re telling me that you kiss your sister on the lips?”

“I _used_ to,” he corrected. “What’s the big deal?”

“She’s your _sister._ ”

“The question still stands, Dipper.”

“That’s incest.”

Mason let out an exasperated sigh, annoyed at Dipper’s lack of understanding. “Everyone indulges in taboo at some point in their lives. Don’t be so quick to be judgmental. Besides, I’m not fucking her. We’re not having genetically mutated children.”

Dipper was taken aback by Mason’s crude language, but replied, “Aren’t people supposed to be biologically repelled from that?”

Mason shrugged. “Maybe. I’m apparently not. Are you?”

“Of course!” Dipper visibly shuddered. “Just the _thought_ of kissing a family member…”

“...I’m guessing your family’s different, in that regard? Your parents weren’t related?”

“God, no.” Dipper hesitated. “Well, I don’t think so, at least… Wait, is inbreeding a thing in your family?”

Mason nodded and rolled his eyes. “It’s a ‘thing,’ all right. It’s like no one gave a shit that their kids were getting their recessive genes for illnesses and defects. That’s basic biology.”

“…Wow.”

“I know. Fucking idiots. It’s one thing to kiss your relative, but to reproduce with them? Absolutely ludicrous.”

Dipper swallowed, searching his mind for something to change the subject to. “…So, you have any nightmares about Mabel?”

Mason shrugged. “Not really....”

“About Will?”

“Yeah. I had one last night where he was sleeping on the couch behind me, and told me he was going to poison me.”

Dipper blinked. “…Oh. That really happened, didn’t it?”

Mason rolled his eyes again. Apparently, he enjoyed doing that. “I really hate him now that he’s free. He’s an entirely different creature. I don’t get it. He used to be… I don’t know, humble? Quiet? He’s an asshole now.”

“Maybe you should talk about it with him,” Dipper suggested. “Sure, it makes sense that he’s rude to you – you abused him for years – but maybe you can try and understand him better and get on his good side.”

“You’re such a pacifist,” Mason scoffed. “You think everything can be solved by talking, don’t you? I’ve got news for you, Dipper. That’s now how the real world works. If I could’ve talked to Stanford about why I need medication, I would have. If I could’ve talked to Mabel about the incest problem of the previous generations of the Gleeful family, _I would have_! But people don’t listen!” He stood up and started for the door, adjusting his bolo tie as he went, just in case it was crooked.

“Mason,” called Dipper, getting up to follow him. “Listen. Your family has communication problems. You need to learn to talk out issues with people, and you can start with Will.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he snapped, and fled.

* * *

 

Will was curled up on the couch beside Mabel, chatting softly with her, a blush ever-so-slightly reddening his cheeks. He adored this girl, so bubbly and bright and full of goodness. Then, Dipper walked in, and he smiled. His other saint was here, too. What an incredible day this was.

“Hey,” said Dipper softly, sitting on the other side of Will. “I made Mason upset. I don’t know how to talk to him…”

“What happened?” asked Mabel, lips pursed in a frown.

“I don’t know. Everything was going well. We were talking about stuff we had in common, then I suggested he talk out his issues with you, Will, and he got mad and left. I think he locked himself in the bathroom…”

Will sighed. “That’s how he tends to be… He grew up with a servant who never questioned him, so when someone tries to order him around, he gets upset. It’s impossible to give him suggestions without him getting defensive.” He leaned against Mabel as if simply mentioning Mason exhausted him.

Dipper frowned and glanced down, tapping his foot as he pondered the situation. Then, he glanced up. “Will, do you think you and Mason could eventually get along? You said you were willing to forgive him…”

“Mmhm. I think so. We have a lot in common, after all,” Will replied. “We both like astrology. We both like reading. We both like the color blue. We’re both victims of Stanford’s manipulation, lies, and severe physical and emotional abuse…” His single eye clouded slightly and his words grew softer at the end of his sentence before he blinked a few times and added in his normal tone, “The problem is that he refuses to acknowledge he did anything wrong. He’s stubborn and prideful, just like Stanford.”

“I know exactly what to do,” Mabel said suddenly. “We bring him out here, and we play the listening game. You talk, and he can’t say anything until you’re done. He can’t interrupt you. Then, he gets a turn to talk, and you have to listen without interrupting. That way, everybody gets a fair turn to say what they’re thinking.”

Will shrugged. “I’d be willing to, if Mason wasn’t absolutely _wrong_ about not being responsible for-“

“And you’re not allowed to say words like that,” Mabel added. “Stuff like ‘wrong.’ That’s too judgmental, and judging isn’t allowed. All you need to do is listen. Got it?”

Reluctantly, Will nodded, and Mabel got up, returning a few minutes later dragging Mason behind her. He was trying to subtly wipe his eyes, not wanting to be caught crying. When he saw Dipper and Will, he straightened his posture and glared at them. “What is this, an intervention?”

“Nope!” Mabel nudged him over to the couch, encouraging him to sit next to Will. “We just want you to talk to Will!”

“Fuck off. I’m not talking to him, or any of you.”

“Okay, but here’s the deal. You get to say anything you want to convince Will to see your point of view, and Will’s not allowed to say anything until you’re done. You can have, let’s say, two minutes to talk. The only rule is that you can’t be judgy, and you can’t insult anyone. Okay?” Mabel pulled out her phone to start a timer. “Go!”

Mason fixed her with a fierce glare, but couldn’t resist the opportunity to tell Will just how ridiculous he was being. He sat down beside the demon and took a deep breath, then said, lip curled in a half-snarl, “I don’t understand why you’re deliberately trying to humiliate me all the time now that you’re free from the deal. I thought you were supposed to be a nice demon, and I’m so sick of it. You’re trying to get to me, because you know I can’t fight back. You know that you’re infinitely stronger than I am.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks to hide their shaking. “You’re _targeting_ me, just like how Stanford targets me. I hate it. I bet that if Mabel was here, too, you wouldn’t treat her the same way.” Mason bit his lip as he conjured up more things to say. “Furthermore, you have no idea what I’m going through. My own fucking uncle beat me and threw my medicine in the fire! Sure, he hurt you, but he’s my _family_. Being treated like that is awful. So, when you make me look like an idiot in the kitchen, in front of these kids, you’re just adding salt to the wound.”

“…Time,” Mabel said softly, tapping the phone to restart the timer. “It’s Will’s turn. Remember, Mason, don’t interrupt. And absolutely no insults. Go.”

Will spoke softly, eye calmly trained on Mason. “You can’t truly believe that you’re the only one suffering. Stanford hurt both of us. He betrayed me and abused me as revenge for being pushed into the portal. The way I see it, this isn’t a competition. We’re both victims. However, I’m also a victim of you. You abused me, too, and you won’t apologize. You might say it’s solely Stanford’s fault, but you made the conscious decision to follow him. You were trying to impress him. I understand that. But you physically and emotionally harmed me, and you refuse to recognize that.”

Mason’s jaw trembled before he lashed out. “How can you blame me? Stanford made me do it!”

“Mason,” Dipper said sharply. “No interrupting.”

As Mason slouched down, quiet now, Will continued. “You didn’t have to listen to him. You could have refused. You could have apologized just once for the atrocities you committed. But you insist on blaming someone else. You continue to be arrogant and narcissistic. While I consider myself to be nice, and patient…” The flash of fire in Will’s eye made Mabel wince, fearful of what anger lurked beneath Will’s skin. “…You’re testing me.”

“And that’s time.” Mabel put away her phone, warily glancing at Will, worried that continuing the conversation would spark violence. “We’ve heard both sides now.” She walked up to Will, took his hand, pulled Mason’s hand out of his pocket, and put Will’s hand on top of Mason’s. They both glanced up at her, confused. “Here’s the issue. Mason doesn’t understand that what he did was wrong. Will doesn’t understand that Stanford probably had a huge role in what happened.”

Mason and Will exchanged a quick, awkward glance.

Mabel, still holding their hands together, continued. “Mason, what you did was really mean. Even if you were tricked by Stanford, you still hurt Will. Okay? Look at it this way. If Stanford told your sister to hit you, you’d still be mad at your sister, right? Same thing with Will. So, can you say you’re sorry?”

“…Sorry,” Mason finally uttered, looking away.

“Say what you’re sorry for,” Mabel said.

“I’m sorry for… all that. Torturing you. Thinking it was okay, because you’re a demon.”

Will’s tension faded with the surprisingly sincere apology. “…Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear.” When Mabel pulled her hand away, Will kept holding Mason’s hand.

“And Will, wasn’t Stanford an idol to Mason and his sister?” Mabel inquired. “Kind of like how Ford is Dipper’s idol? They’d have done anything to make him proud, right? Can you acknowledge that Stanford is still mostly at fault?”

Will sighed softly and squeezed Mason’s hand. “…Yes. I understand. Stanford’s still our enemy.”

Mabel exchanged a look with her brother, eyes lit up excitedly at the success. “Good! You two can talk to each other civilly!”

“…Just one more thing,” Mason said softly, tugging his hand away from Will’s. “Why were you embarrassing me earlier?”

Will couldn’t help a soft laugh. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been waiting years to say something about your ability to take care of yourself. You’re right, though. It was cruel of me to point that out in front of the Pines family. I apologize.”

Mason huffed and rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything else, having accepted the apology.

* * *

 

Stanford knocked on Mabel’s bedroom door twice before pushing it open. “Mabel, let me see your amulet.”

“Why?” Mabel asked, but removed her headband to separate it from the turquoise gem, which she handed to Stanford.

“Mine won’t work.” He took it and examined it closely, tilting it so it would catch the light. “…Yours is dull, too.” He returned it to her. “Open a portal.”

She closed her fingers around the gem and concentrated, but when nothing happened, she frowned and looked to Stanford.

“…Do something simpler. Make that vase levitate,” he ordered.

She couldn’t do that, either, despite having done it countless times since she’d gotten control of the gem. A bit distraught, she shook her head. “I can’t…”

Stanford took the gem again, tucking it into his back pocket. “Don’t worry. The issue is with the gems, not your ability to use magic.” He approached her and reached out with a polydactyl hand, brushing fingers through a lock of her hair. She stood perfectly still as he eyed the white root of the lock, then stroked his finger over it. For as long as the Gleeful twins had been practicing magic, strands of their hair had grown in white as snow, which they covered with dye, lest their audience notice a change in their appearances. Stanford himself experienced the same side effect, but because his hair was already silver with age, it was nearly unnoticeable.  “No, the issue is with the gems themselves. It seems that Will withdrew the magic from them. Once he comes home, we’ll discipline him for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trust me, kids, every time I write Stanford's dialogue I throw up in my mouth a little.... This chapter doesn't have much plot, but the next one will! Thank you all for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos!!!


	18. Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of child abuse and disordered eating

“I’ll show you a magic trick.” With a deck of cards borrowed from a coffee table drawer, Mason began to shuffle them, then set the deck on the kitchen table where the Pines twins sat. Will was standing off to the side, watching with an amused smile. The demon had seen all of Mason’s routines before, but it was great fun to watch the reactions of the audience. “Which one of you will be my subject?”

“Me!” Mabel said enthusiastically, and Mason spread out the cards in his hand, presenting them to her. “Pick a card and memorize it. Don’t show it to me. Now put it back in the deck.”

Mabel did as she was instructed, and Mason shuffled the deck again before spreading out the cards face-up on the table. “Perfect. But how can I tell which one’s yours…? Ah, of course.” He took her hand gently in his, frail fingers curled around her wrist. “I can read your pulse. Stick out your pointer finger, please… Perfect.” Slowly, he guided her hand over the display of cards, going back and forth until abruptly stopping over a card. “…Is this your card?”

“What!” Mabel’s round eyes and agape mouth had Will chuckling to himself. “How did you know that from my pulse? That’s amazing!”

“Magic, darling,” replied Mason with a sly wink.

“He didn’t actually read your pulse,” Dipper pointed out. “He just used a key card to-“

“Hush,” Mason said suddenly, gathering his cards quickly and shuffling them. “Your turn, Dipper. Different trick. Pick two cards and put them face-down on the table.” Mason then picked up one card. “First card: Ace of Hearts. Let’s put that into the middle of the deck, face-up. The rest of the deck is face-down. Second card…” He picked it up. “Eight of Clubs.” He placed it on top of the deck, face-up before turning it face-down and placing it on the table. Ace of Hearts is in the middle of the deck, somewhere. Eight of Clubs is in front of you.”

“So, what’s the trick?” Dipper asked skeptically.

“The cards teleport.” Mason grinned mischievously, snapped his fingers over the card, and turned it over, revealing the Ace of Hearts. “And this means the Eight of Clubs is in the middle of the deck.” He spread out the deck, face-up, save for the single face-down card in the middle. Dipper hesitantly reached out and lifted the face-down card, revealing the Eight of Clubs.

“…Okay, no cheating.” Dipper glanced back at Will. “I know you helped him with magic.”

Will laughed softly. “I didn’t. That was all Mason.”

Dipper glanced back at the cards, then sighed in resignation. “You’re good.”

“I know.” Mason gathered up the cards again and placed them neatly on the table. “It’s literally my job…” He paused, hand hovering over the deck. “…Well, not anymore. I suppose I’ve resigned by running away.”

Mabel tilted her head curiously. “So you don’t plan on going back?”

His jaw set, Mason shook his head. “How can I? Of course, I have to return eventually to get my things – clothes, books, and the like… I’m just not sure how I’ll get them. Will, could you get them for me?”

Will laughed dryly. He was glad that Mason asking him to do something, instead of ordering him, but the request was ludicrous. The mere idea of returning to Stanford Gleeful’s residence sent chills down his spine. “Absolutely not. That’s your responsibility.”

“But think about what Great-Uncle Stanford will do to me if he sees me again!” Mason protested. “After I ran away and spent the night here? And… if he finds out that I freed you…” He combed his hand through his hair nervously, his mind conjuring up the possible ways he’d be punished. Stanford would beat him with his belt, or simply his hand, or find some other method of abuse to shame his nephew for what he’d done…

“Wait, Will, why can’t you go?” Dipper asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you have to worry about, since you have all your magic back? Couldn’t you defend yourself from Stanford?”

“I’d rather not,” Will replied, his voice growing quiet. “I’m not comfortable seeing Stanford again.”

“Neither am I,” Mason growled, digging his fingernails into his scalp. “Will, you have to help me out a little!”

Will tapped his fingers against his thigh as he gazed at Mason. The boy was about to correct himself, thinking that Will was upset about being commanded to help him, but suddenly and wordlessly, Will left the room. A few moments passed, and he returned, setting something on Mason’s head.

Mason reached up, feeling the soft fabric of a worn baseball cap. “Hey, watch the hair!” he snapped, about to take off the hat, before Will spoke.

“Disguise yourself as Dipper Pines,” the demon suggested, stepping back to compare Mason to Dipper. “If you keep your bangs in front of your eyes and wear Dipper’s clothes, I don’t think anyone would be able to tell the difference.”

“Stanford would see through it,” Mason said, reaching up to pull off the hat, but he hesitated with his fingers touching its brim as Will responded.

“What you don’t know is that Stanford needs new glasses and doesn’t plan to purchase them until next week. If you keep your distance from him, he’ll think you’re Dipper.”

Mason still looked doubtful. “Hypothetically, he sees Dipper Pines go into my room and start taking my stuff. Do you think he’ll just ignore that?”

Will shook his head. “You need a reason to be there. You could pretend you’re there to see Mabel Gleeful… Or pretend to be looking for me. Whatever you decide your lie to be, it has to keep you a good distance from Stanford. Then, it’ll work.”

Mason frowned, but had no more objections.

Both Pines twins were apprehensive about sending Mason to the mansion alone. Mabel offered to accompany him, but this was declined, and Dipper suggested they talk to Stan and Ford about it first, but for his pride’s sake, Mason insisted on doing this immediately. He was nervous, too. If Stanford discovered his identity, he would surely be greeted with the man’s terrible ire, and if Stanford did plan to do something heinous to Dipper, he was in just as much trouble.

While Will was filling his gemstone with magic, Mason’s heartbeat quickened, and his breathing became shallower. Will noticed immediately. “You’re anxious,” he murmured as he pressed the gem into the boy’s sweaty palm. “Breathe deeply. You’ll be fine – you’re a wonderful actor, and you’ll have no trouble fooling Stanford.”

“…Do you really think so?” Mason whispered, gazing into Will’s eye.

The demon nodded, and Mason let out a shaky sigh and opened the portal to the other dimension. Before stepping through, he tugged the baseball cap down. This would work, wouldn’t it?

* * *

 

Mabel opened the door to her enormous walk-in closet, bare feet making no sound against the cream-white carpet as she approached her dresses on display. What would she wear today? She pulled out a black one with a flared skirt, one she often paired with statement heels and earrings. No, not this one. Mason told her it made her look like a whore. Then, the turquoise one? She ran her fingers over its soft fabric. It was one of her personal favorites, but she wasn’t in the mood for such a bright color. With reluctance, she let the dress slip from between her fingertips.

Stanford’s heavy footsteps in the hall had her turning around quickly on her heel, then peering out of the closet just as Stanford opened her door. Instinctively, her fingers curled around the lapels of her black silk dressing robe, drawing them closer to each other to hide her skin.

“Good morning,” she greeted softly, curiously eyeing her great-uncle. He was already fully dressed in his typical button-down shirt, blue tie, charcoal vest, and trousers. Sophisticated and smart attire, as usual. There was no hypocrisy in his demands that Mabel and Mason always “dress to impress.” The three of them followed the rule every day, even when they had no plans to go anywhere or see anyone. For Mabel, looking her best was no longer a chore, but a habit. It wasn’t unusual for her to spend at least an hour getting ready in the morning, picking the perfect outfit, curling her hair, and applying makeup.

To look like an average person was unthinkable. Stanford criticized her in the past for wearing jeans or sneakers, or not doing her hair, and when she wasn’t wearing as much makeup as usual, he commented on the redness of her cheeks or the sparseness of her eyebrows (thanks to over-plucking them when she was younger). Then again, he criticized her eyebrows before she started plucking them too, saying that they were too thick and masculine, and looked too much like Mason’s. He was so picky. She couldn’t get away with gaining a single pound, either, or else her great-uncle would say something about her weight. She had to exercise regularly to maintain her physique, and if that wasn’t enough, Stanford encouraged her to skip meals. A few times, she’d over-indulged in dessert, and he forced her to vomit it up. Thankfully, that made her stop enjoying sweet things, so she wasn’t tempted to eat them anymore.

Stanford was difficult to please, but she knew that he held her to such high standards for her own good. Look pretty, stay fit, be mature, play as his apprentice, acquire his fortune, and soon, the world would be in her hands.

“Good morning, Mabel,” he replied, his voice equally quiet and tired as hers. “I’m about to make breakfast, since Will still hasn’t returned. Are coming downstairs soon?”

“I think so,” she murmured. “I just can’t decide what to wear.”

Stanford approached her dresses and pulled out a white one that hugged her curves and went down to her knees, then while standing behind her, held it up in front of her so she could see it on herself in the mirror. “This one looks lovely on you.”

She gazed at her reflection, pondering this new option. This particular dress made her look mature, like she worked in an office or something. Was that why Stanford liked it? With a polite smile, she took it from his hands. “I’ll wear it. Thank you, Great-Uncle Stanford.”

“Of course, my dear.”

“Oh… One thing,” she said softly, and he put his hand on her shoulder as he listened. As soon as she woke up, she couldn’t get one particular worry out of her head. She had to ask. “Where is Mason?”

Stanford locked eyes with her reflection in the mirror. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him…”

She swallowed before taking a step away from Stanford, gazing up at him. “You truly don’t know? You didn’t do anything to him last night?”

“What do you mean?” Stanford’s voice was as calm as ever, and his eyes steady.

“You said something to me,” Mabel began, clutching the dress against her body as she spoke. Confronting Stanford was terrifying, even though she knew he wouldn’t dare raise a hand to strike her, like he did with Mason. “You made it sound like… You planned to harm him.”

Stanford watched her for a moment longer before replying. “First of all, Mabel, I can say sincerely that I don’t know where that boy went. I didn’t harm him. Second…” He reached out to her, hand moving slowly, and cupped her jaw. “…Everything I do, I do for the good of you, your brother, and this family. Putting Mason out of his misery will not only stop him from embarrassing the family with his _problems_ , but he’ll be better off, too. You know how ill he is – he’s not expected to live much longer, anyways.”

Mabel still stared at him with wide eyes. “…You _did_ mean that you wanted to kill him.”

“Of course.” He smiled at her. She suppressed a shiver. “There’s no need to look so horrified. If an animal is dying, do you let nature kill it slowly, or do you put it to sleep quickly?”

“This is different… Great-Uncle Stanford, I know he’s sick, and an embarrassment and everything, but he’s still my brother.”

Stanford finally pulled his hand away from her, starting toward the door, indicating that the conversation was nearly over. “Mabel, if you want to do what’s best for your brother, be a good girl and let me handle the situation.” And before she could argue, he turned and swiftly left her room.

She leaned against a set of drawers, still holding the white dress against her chest. In this household, once Stanford ended a conversation, no one was allowed to bring up the subject again… but was she supposed to forget that Stanford admitted to wanting to murder her brother? Was she supposed to think that was okay? Sure, Stanford justified it, but her senses screamed at her that this entire situation was _wrong_.

* * *

 

Mason smiled to himself as he exited the portal in the main hallway on the second floor, thinking about how ridiculous it was that he was standing in his mansion dressed in ripped jeans and a flannel over a t-shirt. If Stanford found out that his nephew was wearing that kind of attire, he’d beat him half to death. He lifted the baseball cap to peer around, and with no one else in sight, he began walking toward his bedroom, holding tightly onto the straps of the backpack Dipper loaned him.

Of course, when he was just a few feet away, the door to Stanford’s office opened, and the man himself emerged, noticing Mason immediately.

“Dipper,” he called out, surprised, but wearing a friendly smile as he started toward the boy. “It’s good to see you again. Did Will send you?”

“…No, Bill did,” Mason lied with a smile that was just as fake as Stanford’s. “I’m, uh, glad I ran into you. I’m looking for Mabel Gleeful.”

While Stanford continued forward, Mason inched back. He couldn’t let Stanford see his eyes… “I’ll take you to her,” he said, and suddenly turned, heading for the stairs, and gesturing for Mason to follow him. “I wanted to talk to you, though.”

Mason bit his lip, but followed, leaving a gap between himself and Stanford, just in case the man decided to turn back and face him. “About what?” he asked, feigning curiosity.

“I was wondering… Are you good at acting?”

His first thought was like an arrow striking his heart. Did he already see through his acting? Was his plan foiled? “Uh,” he said, struggling to keep his voice cheerful. “I might be.”

“You could learn, I’m sure,” said Stanford. “You see… Mason’s illness is getting worse. I fear he won’t make it much longer, but my niece can’t perform on her own, and we can’t close the Tent of Telepathy. She’ll need a new partner, and I can’t think of a better candidate than you, Dipper Pines.”

Relief hit Mason first. So that was just an innocent question. Stanford hadn’t figured out that he wasn’t Dipper. But, after relief came, confusion set in.

What was Stanford talking about? Mason was ill, but he certainly wasn’t dying. Unless, of course, Stanford knew something that he didn’t. Still playing the role of Dipper, he asked curiously, “You really think I’d be a good performer? Why?”

“You just strike me as the kind of person who could charm a crowd.” Stanford stopped walking in front of the door leading to the room that the twins used to plan their shows. “If you accept the offer, I’ll let you live here, in the mansion. You’d live luxuriously, have all your needs taken care of, and all you have to do is perform magic tricks on a stage. Don’t worry, you have time to think it over, but when you decide, let me know.” He nodded to the door. “Mabel’s in here. I’ll give you some privacy with her, and maybe you two can discuss being partners.” He patted Mason on the shoulder, smiled warmly, and left.

Mason took a moment to ponder the odd situation. For starters, Stanford treated Dipper with a ridiculous amount of kindness compared to how he treated his own nephew. Second, why did Stanford imply that Mason was dying? Was he purposefully lying to Dipper? Why?

After a moment, he pushed open the door and shut it carefully behind him, not daring to leave it cracked, just in case Stanford was trying to listen in on them.

When he turned to face his sister, he was greeted with a scowl, and before he could say anything, she grabbed his shirt collar with both hands and thrust him against the wall. “Listen,” she snarled, her voice ripe with malice and her red lips curled up to threateningly expose white teeth. “I don’t know what Stanford’s thinking, but you’ll never be my partner. Do you understand me, Dipper Pines? I refuse to perform with you. You’d never replace my brother.”

Having had the back of his head knocked against the wall with the force of the shove, Mason had his face lowered, wincing in pain. Then, he lifted it, and pulled off his hat. “Mabel, listen-“

“No, _you_ listen!” Clearly, her anger blinded her, because she didn’t notice his eyes. “I don’t know where Mason is. I don’t know if he’s hiding, or if he’s dead, but I won’t let him be replaced by some lower-class-“

“Mabel!” Mason put his hands on her shoulders and shoved her back. “Look at my eyes! It’s me!” He pushed up his messy bangs. “Your brother.”

“….Mason?” Her fierce expression melted into one of confusion as she scrutinized him, and once she determined that his eyes were indeed bright blue, she released his shirt and threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

The gesture was unexpected. Mason blinked, and once Mabel stepped away, she looked embarrassed, rubbing the back of her neck. “…That was awkward.”

“Let’s never do that again,” Mason agreed.

“So, what….” Mabel looked him up and down, smirking a bit at his outfit. “What’s with all that?”

“They’re Dipper’s clothes.” Mason set the cap down and ran his fingers through his hair. “I know, I look like a nightmare. But I didn’t want to let Stanford know I was here. I just came back for my stuff. The plan is to sneak into my room and pack up my clothes while Stanford thinks I’m with you.”

Mabel crossed her arms as she eyed him. “Why are you hiding from him? I was worried something happened to you.”

Mason smirked. “You’re worried about me. Cute,” he quipped before responding. “I can’t show him my face after he found my medication. He thinks I’m a disgrace. I also… I did something he wouldn’t agree with.”

“Did he… say anything about what he’d do to you?”

“Sorry?”

Mabel appeared vaguely uncomfortable. “He’s been saying a lot of weird stuff lately. I don’t know if he said anything to you…”

"He did tell me just a few minutes ago that he thinks I won’t ‘make it much longer’ because of my issues,” Mason said.

Suddenly, the pieces snapped into place.

“Mabel,” began Mason, finally taking notice of Mabel’s awkward posture and averted eyes. “What’s he been saying to you?”

Silence.

“Mabel, is Stanford planning to kill me?”

“…I couldn’t tell. It was really vague,” Mabel mumbled, seeming to shrink back slightly from her brother. “I thought that maybe, that’s what he meant, but I hoped it wasn’t….”

Mason clenched his hands into trembling fists at his side, a confusing amalgamation of emotions swirling in his head – anger, distress, fear, hatred – and he walked up to his sister, saying with a tight jaw, “You _knew_ that Stanford was planning to kill me, and what were you going to do? Sit here and continue being manipulated by that bastard?”

Mabel swallowed, acting surprisingly meek for someone who was normally so fiery. “I’m not being manipulated by him.”

“You’re obsessed with him, and he’s taking advantage of that,” Mason pointed out. “He-“

“I’m not obsessed with him.” Mabel finally looked up, anger sparked. “He’s obsessed with me. He thinks I’m the greatest thing that’s ever happened to this family – unlike you.”

“He’s just saying that to flatter you. If he convinces you that he thinks you’re perfect, he can easily bend you to his whim. That’s textbook manipulation.”

“You’re just jealous.” Her red lips curled up in a half-snarl.

“Why would I be jealous that you’re being manipulated?”

“You’re jealous because Stanford hates you,” she replied, her words equally as harsh as her tone. “Because you’re sick and useless and you pretend to have a mental disorder, so you can get high on prescription medication.”

Mason took in a deep breath to calm himself before turning to the door. There was no point in even humoring Mabel and the lies that Stanford fed her. “Believe what you want. I’m going to get my stuff and go back to the Pines’ dimension. At least there, I’m treated with decency.”

Before he could make it out the door, he heard the click of Mabel’s heels on the floor, and she grabbed his shoulder. “Wait.” For a moment, Mason wondered if she was going to apologize to him, but she instead asked, “Is Will in the Pines’ dimension with you? Can you tell him to come home? We need him back.”

“Do you, now?” Mason inquired sourly. “That’s too bad.” He walked out of the room, making his way to his own bedroom.

Mabel kept her voice down as she continued talking, following him. “He is there, isn’t he? Then let me go there with you so I can drag that demon back. He’s got chores to do.”

“You can come to the Pines’ dimension with me, but there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to bring him back,” Mason whispered to her.

“I can convince him,” she boasted. When Mason started putting his belongings into the backpack, she crossed her arms and watched him. “That stupid demon sucked all the magic out of my gem. Stanford’s, too. He’s going to pay for that.”

“Funny, my gem works just fine,” replied Mason nonchalantly, and opened a portal to demonstrate the fact. He zipped up the backpack and stepped through, letting Mabel follow behind him before closing it.

The twins appeared in the living room, where they were greeted by Dipper Pines, who’d been on the couch watching television. He got up and smiled at Mason, but the smile wavered as he realized who was beside him. “Hey,” he said uncertainly. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Yes, thank you,” Mason said. “Plus, a guest.”

Mabel crossed her arms as she surveyed her surroundings. The living room’s décor was ugly, the room looked dirty, and the entire space seemed cramped. Did people really live like this? She nudged her brother. It would be best to find Will and get him home as soon as possible. The less time she spent in this run-down shack, the better. “Where’s Will?” she mumbled to her brother.

“I don’t know, let’s find him.” Mason set the backpack down before leaving the living room, Mabel following close behind. Just as she was about to ask how Mason could stand to stay in such a gross place, Mason stopped and gestured. “There he is.”

In a ridiculously small kitchen, Will Cipher, and a girl who Mabel figured was the alternate version of herself, sat at a table, both holding a pair of knitting needles with two balls of blue yarn sitting between them. Will glanced up, his single eye widening at the sight of Mabel Gleeful.

“There you are,” she growled, and stormed up to the table, slamming her hands down on it as a show of intimidation. The demon flinched slightly, much to her delight. “What the hell are you doing? You need to come home immediately.”

Mabel Pines seemed just as surprised as Will, having never seen Mabel Gleeful before. “Hey!” she said sharply. “Leave him alone.”

“Stay out of this,” replied Mabel Gleeful. “Will, get up. We’re leaving.”

After his initial startled response, Will seemed to relax a bit, and he picked up his knitting needles again. “I’m not going back to that mansion,” he told her, his voice calm. “I’m not your servant anymore.”

* * *

 

Bill dramatically splayed his body out across Ford’s desk, one hand moving to unbutton his shirt. “Hey.”

Ford had virtually no reaction, pulling a small stack of papers out from beneath Bill. “Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?”

“You’re the most boring old man in the world, you know that?” Bill sighed, giving up on his shirt buttons as he gazed at Ford. “Do you even know what you’re missing out on? I conjured up this super-hot bod and you don’t even want a piece of it?”

“Please leave.”

Bill ran his fingers through his straw-colored hair, his single yellow eye peering at Ford. “Last chance, Sixer. If you don’t get it now, I’m gonna find some other cute guy to get it on with.”

“That would be preferable,” replied Ford, his eyes on his papers.

With a heavy sigh, the demon pulled himself off the desk, upsetting several papers and pens in the process. “I’m gonna hook up with someone who’s actually interested in me. Don’t get too jealous.”

Ford glanced up briefly, only to say, “I doubt I will. Also, you have a sticky note stuck to your pants.”

“I knew that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: Will flinches at the sight of Mabel Gleeful but pretends he's totally chill. And apparently, Bill knows someone who's 'interested' in him.


	19. Shift

“I do believe you offered some sort of a deal a little while ago?”

From behind, Stanford didn’t appear to be startled by Bill’s sudden appearance. He slowly turned to see the demon, who had spawned suddenly on his bed. As he did on Ford’s desk, he was lounging back, leisurely stretching his arms above his head. Stanford, in fact, showed little emotion, regarding Bill coldly with a notebook held at his side. “I believe you turned that deal down,” he responded, turning up his chin slightly.

“Can’t a guy change his mind?” Bill wiggled his eyebrows, finally drawing some semblance of a smirk from Stanford’s lips. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking it over. I think a deal with you would be great.”

“Really? Do you trust me all of a sudden?” Stanford was heading for the bedroom’s door that led to the hall, reaching for the handle. Bill, not wanting to miss his opportunity, sprang to his feet.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said, following Stanford out of the room. “I still think you’d betray me in a heartbeat. But then again, I’d betray you too, y’know? But I’m not really interested in power. I’m more interested in…. you.”

Stanford laughed softly, slowing his pace. “Is that so? What aspect of me are you interested in?”

“You know. All of you.”

“Surely, there’s some qualities about me that you don’t like, because you don’t trust me.”

“I’m trying to flirt, genius,” Bill chuckled, and looped his arm through Stanford’s. “I’m into you. I wanna get it on.”

Stanford glanced down briefly at their locked arms, then up to Bill’s grinning face. “This seems _very_ sudden. Forgive me for being cautious.”

“No, yeah, I catch your drift. I’ll be open and honest with you.” Bill stopped walking, and Stanford stopped, too. “I really want to make a deal with you now, and I’m not goofing around. I’m getting really bored in that other dimension. I thought Ford was warming up to me, but the guy won’t even look at me now. He’s all like…” Bill spoke in a mockingly deep voice. “’Bill, go away, I’m busy,’ or ‘Bill, don’t talk to me, I’m holding something fragile,’ or ‘Bill, I’m a boring old man who just wants to do boring science things.’ And, full disclosure, I’m so sick of it. I need some excitement in my life.” Bill, a few inches shorter than Stanford, stood on his toes to get at eye-level with him. “I’ll give you some magic, but in exchange? You gotta make things _interesting_ for me.”

The corners of Stanford’s mouth turned up in a slow, presaging smirk. “Let’s discuss this over a drink in my office. Come.”

* * *

 

Mabel Gleeful stared back at Will, unmoving for a few moments, as though Will were Medusa and had turned her to stone. Then, as was her nature, she lashed out, her voice shrill and overflowing with venom. “What are you talking about? Of course you’re my servant, and you’re coming back with me now!”

Mabel Pines glanced at the demon beside her, worried on his behalf. She was aware of the awful acts that the other Mabel committed against him, and she was certain that he’d flinch back from her fury, the same way that he flinched at loud sounds or the presence of Ford. But, as a pleasant surprise, Will stood up, facing her defiantly. “The tables have turned. You’re not my master, I’m not your servant, and your orders mean nothing to me.”

“What kind of- You-!” Mabel Gleeful’s words didn’t come out right, but her body gracefully conveyed her message. She heaved the table, the only obstacle between them, to the side, knocking it upside-down and upsetting the knitting projects. Mabel Pines cried out and backed up, leaving Will standing before his former master. But, as she reached for Will, the demon’s fingertips sparked, and a powerful magical force erupted from him, knocking Mabel Gleeful back hard enough that she flew through the kitchen doorway and hit the nearby wall. Dazed but uninjured, she groaned and glared up at Will.

Mason knelt down beside her immediately, glancing briefly at Will with a troubled expression before helping his sister to her feet. He had no idea that the situation would get violent. He’d only kept the deal-breaking a secret so that she’d be startled, as a sort of petty revenge for what she’d said to him in the mansion. He never intended to risk injuring her. “Listen, Belle…” Mason began, addressing her with an old nickname as he helped her to her feet. “Will told me the truth about Stanford and… how we mistreated him. So, I freed him from the deal.” He looked her dead in the eye, two pairs of swirling blue oceans locked together. “He’s not in our power anymore. He has all of his magic back.”

Her eyes searched his, darting back and forth in confusion, but she saw no sign that he might be lying. Still, she refused to believe it. “No way. Will’s our servant for life.”

“Not anymore.”

“…You really did it?” Mabel asked quietly. “You freed Will Cipher?”

“I did.”

Mabel glanced down briefly, glanced back up, and before Mason could even flinch in anticipation, she slapped him across the face, the clap ringing in everyone’s ears and leaving a bright red mark on Mason’s cheek – she could hit hard. He reeled back, tears involuntarily coming to one eye. “Mabel!”

Mason’s sister, furious, looked ready to strike him again. “What were you thinking!” she demanded. “What’s wrong with you! How could you even consider releasing him! We need that demon under our control!”

Mason was wincing, fearing another slap. “I’ll explain, if you give me a fucking chance!”

“How could you possibly explain this!”

Dipper, although fearful of Mabel Gleeful, stepped between the two siblings, shielding Mason. “Hey, calm down!” he told her in a commanding tone. “And don’t hit Mason! He did what was best for Will!”

“What about what’s best for _us?_ ” Mabel hissed, lunging at him, and leaning in close to intimidate him. He winced like Mason did. “We need Will, but Mason just ruined everything.” She peered around Dipper to glare at the boy. “Like he always does.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Dipper scolded. “It’s-“

“-It makes you sound like a brat.” The argument was cut through with Stan’s gruff voice. The man walked into the hallway, his arms crossed. “Are you kids fighting in my house?”

Mabel Gleeful’s eyes fell on Stan, looking him over with an expression of vague disgust. After inferring who he was, she replied with a sneer, “We are. What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to kick you out,” Stan said, staring her down, the only one in the room not intimidated by the girl’s aggression. “I’ll make everyone who doesn’t belong in this dimension leave, if you keep fighting and overturning furniture.”

Will, still in the middle of the kitchen, turned the table upright and began picking up the yarn. “I’m sorry!” he said to Stan. “We’ll calm her down.”

“You’d better,” Stan grumbled, and marched away.

Mason seemed unsettled by Stan’s comment. If he lost his place to stay, he wouldn’t have anywhere to go. Still cradling his stinging cheek, he stood to his full height to face his sister again. “Belle, you need to calm down,” he told her firmly. “We need to respect Stan’s rules. No more fighting, or we’ll have to leave.”

“That’s not a problem for me,” Mabel huffed, crossing her arms. “I plan to go back, anyways. And I’m going to tell Great-Uncle Stanford what you did with Will.”

Mason exchanged a quick glance with Will before replying, “…You can’t go back. You can’t open portals on your own anymore. You don’t have Will’s magic.”

When the realization dawned on her, her eyes widened. Mason was right. “You can’t trap me in this filthy house with you.”

“We’re not _trapping_ you,” Mason said, shrugging slightly. “But we can’t let you tell Stanford about breaking the deal. And it’s not like you have anywhere else to go in this dimension. You don’t have money, and you need a place to sleep.”

Dipper sighed softly and put his forehead in his hands. It was hard enough to deal with one Gleeful twin, but to have _both_ of them staying in the already cramped house? This would be fun.

Properly introducing Mabel Gleeful to everyone went as poorly as Mason expected. She didn’t hesitate to insult Mabel Pines multiple times, she refused to shake Stan’s hand and simply looked disgusted with him. While Dipper was fetching Ford from the basement, Mason showed her the air mattress that he’d been sleeping on, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you serious? I’m not sleeping there. And I’m definitely not sleeping next to the person who betrayed us.”

Mason bit his lip. “Great. I wouldn’t want to sleep next to someone who’s blind as a fucking bat. You can sleep on the porch.”

“We’ll find a place for you,” Mabel Pines offered. Despite her counterpart’s earlier rudeness, she did her best to remain hospitable. “Maybe you can put a sleeping bag on the floor between my bed and Dipper’s bed!”

“You.” Mabel Gleeful turned on her heel to face the other girl. “You’re just as stupid as you look. I’m not sleeping in a sleeping bag. I’ll just… sleep on the couch, if no one will let me go home.”

Will leaned against the living room doorway, arms crossed as he smirked at Mabel. “Unfortunately, I’ve claimed the couch already.”

“For the record, Will, I fucking hate you,” Mabel Gleeful spat, glowering fiercely at him.

Before Will could make a retort, footsteps could be heard approaching them from the hallway. Mason and Will had an expected response: they both flinched slightly, but looked expectantly to the hall, expecting Ford Pines. Out of curiosity, Mabel Pines turned to her alternate self to see her reaction. Her eyes widened, her body became stiff, and she uncrossed her arms, watching the door with what appeared to be unease sparkling in her eyes.

“…and I think they’re having a little fight.” Dipper was finishing his conversation with Ford as he walked with him into the living room. “Mabel – Gleeful, that is – This is Ford Pines. You’ve met him before.”

The girl’s tenseness faded, but her words were as sharp as ever. “I have. He visited us in our dimension years ago as a vagabond.” Her eyes searched Ford, darting up and down his body. “I see your sense of style is as awful as ever.”

“Belle, stop,” Mason sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ford’s letting us stay here. I know it’s hard to resist, but try to refrain from insulting him too much.”

She turned to her brother, glared at him, then looked back at Ford. “I’m not here because I want to be here. I’m here because my shitty brother and Will are holding me hostage. And, just so you know, I refuse to sleep anywhere that’s not a proper bed, so don’t even think about giving me a sleeping bag.”

Ford blinked, taken aback by her sudden demands. “Well… We don’t have any guest bedrooms, but I’ll see what I can do,” he said, and looked to Mason. “Why is she a hostage?”

“If we let her go back, she’ll tell Stanford about… what happened to the deal with Will,” said Mason softly. “And now we know that Stanford was already planning on murdering me, so… We just can’t make things worse.”

Mabel Gleeful had her arms crossed again. “You made things worse when you broke the deal with Will.”

“Mason,” said Ford softly. “Did you tell her why you freed Will?”

“She doesn’t know the entire story,” Mason admitted. “We should start with that, right? Belle, let’s sit down and Will can tell you all about Stanford, and the horrible things he’s done…”

“No,” she said firmly.

Mason glanced at Ford, almost apologetically, partially as a silent “sorry” on behalf of his sister, but partially because he’d realized how irritating it was to talk to someone so stubborn and stuck-up, which was exactly how Mason was behaving when he first arrived. While he still clung to his pride tightly, he’d understood that without the kindness of the Pines family, he could be in a much worse place. He could have even been murdered by now. “I guess we can’t force you to listen…” he sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “But you need to open your eyes eventually, Belle, and see what’s really going on with Stanford.”

“Kids,” said Ford, addressing his niece and nephew, but both pairs of twins looked up at him expectantly. “…Dipper and Mabel, can we talk for a moment?” He beckoned for them to follow him into another part of the house, leaving the Gleeful twins to bicker while Will watched them, still leaning on the doorway.

Mabel Gleeful remained obstinate, glaring at Mason until Ford was out of sight. Then, she started arguing again “Am I even going to be able to go back home and get my clothes? And makeup?”

Mason ran his fingers through his hair, trying to push his bangs back from his uncomfortably sweaty forehead. “I don’t know… Maybe I can go back and get them for you…”

She kept her gaze fixated on him for a moment, then walked over to the couch and sat down, crossing her legs. “If I don’t get to go home by tomorrow, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Why would you want to go back?” Mason asked, eyes widened slightly. “What part of ‘Stanford’s trying to murder your brother’ do you not understand? Are you that callous? Do you not care about me at all?”

Her eyes wandered to Will briefly before returning to Mason. When she responded, her voice was softer. “I care about you. Quit saying that I don’t. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“…I didn’t want to go against Great-Uncle Stanford,” she admitted. “But I guess… he’s been acting really strange lately. Have you noticed?”

* * *

 

Stanford Gleeful passed the time in the waiting room, fingers laced together in his lap, idly watching fish drift about in their tank. Thirteen-year-old Mabel asked him not to accompany her, saying it made her feel like a child, so he complied. For twenty or so minutes, he occupied himself with the fish, hearing only the occasional rustle of the receptionist’s papers or footsteps in the hallway of the building. The beauty of living in a small town was the lack of noise and bustle.

The doctor Mabel was seeing entered the waiting room, and Stanford looked up with a polite smile. Mabel appeared behind the doctor, eyes downcast. “Mr. Gleeful,” said the doctor, smiling back. “We’ve gone over her symptoms, and everything points to… simply insomnia. There’s no sign of an illness, thankfully, but not sleeping enough can cause a lot of unpleasant symptoms. Insomnia would explain her fatigue, aches, tremors, and eye twitch.”

“Insomnia…” Stanford nodded slowly, watching Mabel, who shuffled her feet. “I see.”

“A lot of teenagers have trouble sleeping. School and puberty can add a tremendous amount of stress to their lives,” the doctor explained. “She’s homeschooled, isn’t she? I would suggest reducing her workload, first and foremost. Then, work on reducing stress in general. Bubble baths, journal keeping, drinking green tea – but only in the morning, so the caffeine doesn’t affect her sleep – meditation and light exercise… Mabel, just take it easy for the next few weeks, and if you still find it difficult to sleep, we’ll make another appointment. There could be an underlying issue, but let’s be optimistic.” He wrote something down quickly on his clipboard. “Have a wonderful day, Mabel. You too, Mr. Gleeful.”

Mabel shuffled behind Stanford to the car, and once they were on the road, he spoke. “You never told me you had trouble sleeping.”

She gave a noncommittal shrug. “Didn’t think it was a big deal.”

His cold gaze remained on the road while he spoke, but she could sense his malcontent. “If you have health issues, my dear, that’s always a ‘big deal.’ I don’t want you falling ill.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“Don’t know.”

He uttered a soft sigh, forcing himself to relax his shoulders and put on a gentler expression. “Mabel… I’m worried about you,” he said earnestly. “Insomnia can be a severe problem.”

She shifted in her seat. With great reluctance, she said, “It’s just hard to get to sleep. And when I do, there’s nightmares.”

“Nightmares about what?”

“Don’t know. Drowning. Dying. It varies.”

“Interesting,” Stanford remarked. “I’m sorry that’s happening, Mabel. If reducing stress doesn’t help, I’ll see about getting you sleeping aids.”

She didn’t reply, resting her chin on her hand and staring out the window.

* * *

 

When Stanford offered Bill a cigar from a rosewood box, he accepted eagerly. Stanford lit his first, then Bill’s, and leaned back in his chair to puff on it. Bill didn’t hesitate to put the cigar to his lips and inhale the smoke, which immediately sent him into a coughing fit. Stanford watched him, amused. “You know that you’re not supposed to smoke cigars like that,” he said, the slightest smirk gracing his lips.

Bill coughed a final time, then picked up the drink that Stanford had mixed for him – a Black Russian – and downed it in one go before replying in a hoarse voice. “Yeah, I know that now. Thanks.” He reached for the bottle of vodka that Stanford had left on the desk between them. “Hey, Will told me once that you quit smoking.”

“I did.” Stanford grimaced slightly, watching the charcoal-gray smoke dance above the end of his cigar. “It was because of Mason. Imagine being forbidden from enjoying simple pleasures in one’s own home. Thankfully, the boy’s gone now, and hopefully for good.”

“Can I nominate you for an award? I’m thinking… ‘World’s Shittiest Uncle.’”

“Oh, please,” Stanford scoffed. “Being related by blood doesn’t mean I’m obligated to care for the boy. He was more of a nuisance than anything.” He turned his back to Bill, now facing the window that overlooked the vast evergreen forest of Gravity Falls. “…Nothing but a stain on the Gleeful family’s otherwise pristine history.”

Bill made a low whistle. “Harsh. But honest.”

The older man hummed in agreement, drawing more smoke into his mouth inattentively. “Mabel seems upset that he’s gone, but I think that she’ll understand soon enough just how awful it would have been for that boy to continue living.”

“The dude’s not dead yet,” Bill pointed out.

“That may be so, but he’s gone for now.” Stanford turned to face Bill again, smiling once more. “Enough about him. Let’s talk business.”

“Right.” Bill returned his sly smile with a Cheshire grin of his own, pointed teeth catching the light from the window. He tilted his chair back and propped his feet up on the desk, glass of vodka in one hand and cigar in the other.  “You wanted to discuss the Terms and Services of our relationship?”

Stanford raised an eyebrow. “Relationship? Let’s not rush things.”

“You mean you wanna slow-burn it? That’s cool, too.” The demon puffed on his cigar. “I’m thinking I’ll give you like, a certain amount of magical power per day. Like one-fifth of it.”

“I have a better idea,” Stanford immediately replied. “Let me tap into your power whenever I please. That was the arrangement I had with Will.”

“Fun fact, Sixer: I’m not Will.”

“I’m aware. But I enjoyed having access to as much power as I needed.” Stanford chuckled. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t drain you completely. If you felt like I was taking too much from you, you’d be allowed to cut me off.”

“Sounds fair…” Bill mused, narrowing his eye slightly.

Stanford noticed his suspicion immediately. “You still don’t trust me, Bill? I understand completely. You don’t have to make a deal with me. You can go home, and I won’t contact you again.”

“No, I’m into it. I just don’t want to get completely fucked over like Will did.”

“Of course not,” said Stanford coaxingly. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I see you as a partner.”

“Yeah? So, what was Will to you?”

“Certainly not my equal.” Stanford rose from his seat slowly, hands resting on the desk. “Speaking of partnership, you don’t mind that my niece joins us in our endeavors, do you? As the heiress of the family, I want her to be at my side, too.”

Bill shrugged. “Sure, I don’t mind. She can do whatever she wants.”

“Excellent. Let’s go tell her now.” Stanford made his way to the door, letting Bill trot behind him.

* * *

 

Will, without the twins noticing, slipped away, leaving them alone in the living room to talk in private. “What do you mean by that? How’s Stanford acting strange?” Mason asked his sister.

Uncharacteristically uncomfortable, Mabel shrugged and replied, “You know. All of a sudden, he’s trying to kill you.”

“All of a sudden?” Mason couldn’t help the sharp, bitter laugh that escaped him. “He’s been abusing me for years. This only feels like the natural progression.”

“Yes, but he had good reasons,” Mabel argued. “You broke his rules. You knew there would be consequences. I wouldn’t even call that ‘abuse.’ But murder is so – that’s awful!”

“So is telling your nephew that he’ll never amount to anything and he’s a disgrace to the family,” Mason huffed. “I told you, you’ve been completely blind to everything that’s been happening. Stanford is, and always has been, a shitty person. It took me until recently to really understand that, so I’m glad you at least have an inkling of what that man’s been plotting.”

Mabel kicked up her foot, mindlessly fidgeting. “But besides the murder thing, he’s been-“

“What? What else is he doing?”

“…Just saying weird stuff.”

Mason fixed her with a scowl. “My darling sister, you know that I love you, but you’re the _densest_ person on this planet. What do I have to do to make it sink in? Stanford. Was planning. To kill me. I can’t imagine anything worse than that.”

“No, I get it, but he’s just been different-“

Just as Ford was returning to the living room with his niece and nephew behind him, Mason began raising his voice. “What could be weirder than a man abusing his nephew for years and then trying to kill him?!”

Naturally, Mabel raised her own voice to combat her brother’s. “First of all, I obviously don’t like that he wants to kill you! I’m not saying the other thing is worse! Second, quit calling his discipline ‘abuse!’ You and Will both fucking knew that breaking his rules meant consequences!”

Mason, bristling with rage, was about to respond, but Ford stepped in, sternly glaring at Mabel Gleeful. “That’s enough. No more fighting in my house, if you want to stay here.” Both Gleeful twins immediately looked away, their cheeks tinted pink. It was an empty threat coming from Ford, but the idea of being left without a place to stay unsettled them. Ford continued. “Mabel, what were you just saying to Mason?”

“What?” She looked up at Ford again, her eyes discreetly searching him.

“About discipline.”

Mabel took a step back from Ford, as though threatened. “…Mason’s being a crybaby about discipline. What of it?”

Ford’s response was surprisingly solemn, his eyes holding a sincerity that the Pines family rarely witnessed, but he still spoke firmly. “Mason and Will were both physically and emotionally abused by your Great-Uncle. I’m certain that what he did surpassed ‘discipline.’ Please don’t invalidate their experiences. Call it what it is: abuse. Let Mason talk about it. And, again, please don’t get into arguments with each other. The last thing we need when dealing with this messy situation is bickering.” With that, Ford turned and left suddenly, uncharacteristically brisk with his movements.

Once he was gone, Mabel shot a glare in her brother’s direction, huffed, and made her way over to the couch and sat down, refusing to look in his direction.

After watching his sister for a moment, Mason found that there would be no immediate reconciliation (not that he wanted to make up with her, after what she’d said), and ran his fingers through his hair, then left the room, brushing past the Pines twins.

* * *

 

During lunch, which had been artfully prepared by Mabel and Will, everyone sat outside on the porch. Two tables had been pushed together, and chairs were brought out to give everyone a place to sit. With seven people currently in the house, there wasn’t enough room at the kitchen table.

While Mabel Gleeful was picking at her sandwich, a disgusted expression on her face, Mabel Pines decided to make an announcement. “I’ve decided to go home,” she declared cheerfully. “Because it’s super crowded in the house right now, and I need to prepare for my first semester at college, I’m leaving tonight! That means we’ll have an extra bed in the attic!”

While Mason and his sister seemed indifferent to the news, Will’s blue eye widened as he stared at Mabel Pines. “You’re leaving? So soon?” he asked softly. Mabel smiled apologetically and nodded. “Can’t you stay a bit longer?”

“I’m sorry, I really don’t want the house to be more crowded than necessary. But we can keep in touch!” she suggested. “I’ll give you my phone number! Or my address, so we can write each other letters! We could totally be pen pals!”

Still, Will looked crushed. “…I’ll miss seeing you.”

“Aw, Will… I’ll miss you, too! It was great getting to know you!”

Both Gleeful twins had been watching Will, and Mabel Gleeful spoke up. “Gross. No sappy stuff at the table, please. Especially not with the demon.”

Mabel Pines frowned, glancing at her alternate self. “What’s him being a demon got to do with anything?”

“It’s gross.”

Mason nudged his sister under the table. “No picking fights,” he whispered, which was enough to get her to stop talking. Of course, she continued to glare at Mabel Pines and Will.

“Hey,” said Stan, filling the awkward silence and catching the Gleeful twins’ attention. “What do you kids do for fun, anyways? Besides push around Will?”

The pair exchanged a quick glance. “I practice magic tricks,” said Mabel Gleeful. “Knife-throwing, usually. And Stanford makes me study.”

“I study, read literature, and practice magic as well,” added Mason. “I do the illusionary and slight-of-hand tricks. I also read Tarot cards and palms, and I dabble in astrology.”

“But you know that Tarot and palm-reading have no scientific basis,” said Ford. “You don’t truly believe in that, right?”

Mabel Pines answered first. “He can believe anything he wants to, Grunkle Ford!”

“I’m not saying he shouldn’t do it, he just shouldn’t believe that one’s future can be predicted by the lines on your hand…”

Mason’s gaze suddenly dropped to his lap. “…I think there’s some things that science can’t explain,” he mumbled, and said nothing more on the subject.

Ford politely acknowledged that Mason didn’t want to talk anymore, and let him finish his lunch in peace, but approached him after lunch when he and his sister were watching television on the couch. Dipper had put on a classic movie for them, and they were both enthralled by it, having rarely watched television. Their trance was broken by Ford clearing his throat. “Mason, Mabel,” he addressed them. Now, both pairs of blue eyes were fixated on him. He had to admit, they were a little creepy. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but can I ask a couple questions about your great-uncle?”

“Go ahead,” replied Mabel dismissively.

“What was it like living with him?” Ford asked softly, pulling up a chair and sitting down, lacing his fingers together in his lap. He didn’t want to stand over the twins and intimidate them with his height, lest they get scared of him. “What was your relationship with him?”

“He was abusive,” said Mason immediately. “It wasn’t so bad at first, but he was horrible to me. Recently, it started getting worse, I think because he wanted to kill me, but… Yeah. He beat me and insulted me, and tried to make me feel guilty about being sick. He called me the black sheep of the family.”

Ford nodded, and couldn’t help but let his gaze fall to his polydactyl hands. “…I’m very sorry. Mabel, what about you?”

Mason answered for her. “She wasn’t abused. He treated her like a princess. He bought her new clothes and makeup and said she could become his apprentice. She was totally brainwashed by him.”

“I was not brainwashed!” Mabel snapped.

“No, you weren’t,” said Ford quietly. “Mabel, you and I have something in common. When I was a boy, my father played favorites. I got attention, and my brother was told he was useless. He was always getting into fights at school, and my father felt the need to punish him. Of course, that didn’t change Stanley’s behavior… And I wouldn’t have called him ‘abusive’ at that age, but now, I understand that hurting children, instead of nurturing them and talking through problems, is abuse. You haven’t been ‘brainwashed,’ but your ideas about your great-uncle are heavily biased based on how he treated you. Do you understand?”

Mabel glared at Ford for a moment, ready to challenge him, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything, so she dropped the glare and nodded. “…Yeah.”

“The same goes for Will. You two were raised to believe that hurting him was okay, because he’s a demon, but that’s simply not true. Now, this isn’t a fault of yours, but it’s a mindset that needs to change. Please treat Will with the same respect and dignity that you’d give anyone else.” Ford stood and smiled. “Now, I’m going to the library to pick up some books. I’ll see you later.”

Once the Gleeful twins were alone in the living room, Mason’s hand reached for his sister’s, clasping it. She squeezed his hand in return, and they continued watching the movie, fingers intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little uneventful (lots of arguing) but we're getting somewhere! (Thank you for all your comments and kudos as always!)


	20. Blurry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments on the last chapter motivated me to put out this chapter sooner than usual. Thank you all! This chapter has been foreshadowed for a long time (some of you have guessed the end already), we're getting closer to the end. Enjoy! And don't be afraid to message me or contact me with questions! 
> 
> Please be warned: This chapter contains disordered eating and mentions of child abuse.

Before Mabel left for California, Will insisted on taking her out on a date, so she drove them to a small café in town. As luck would have it, the best seat was open, and they immediately sat there. It was a nook in front of a large window with comfortable cushions on the windowsill, and Mabel made herself comfortable, folding her legs beneath herself and sipping her iced latte while smiling at Will. “Thanks for the treat! Where did you get the money to buy us these, anyways? I thought the Gleefuls didn’t pay you anything.”

“Oh, I…” Will reached into his pocket and pulled out more money – several crumpled twenty-dollar bills. “I would take these when Stanford left them in his pants pockets. He never noticed them missing.”

“Will!” Mabel scolded sharply. “That’s stealing! That’s wrong!”

With a sly smile, Will shrugged. “So is convincing your niece and nephew that it’s okay to torture their servant. So is coercing your servant into sex. So is-“

“…He did that? Oh, Will, I’m so sorry to hear that…”

“He did lots of things. But that’s behind me. With any luck, I’ll never see him again.” Will put on a forced smile and had a sip of his tea, wincing when he realized it was too hot. “He doesn’t have much time left… Maybe another 20, 30 years if he’s lucky. I’ll just wait out that time in another dimension.”

“That’s a great idea,” Mabel agreed. “And you can take a break from the Gleeful twins. Gosh, I can’t imagine dealing with them after what they did to you! How do you stand them?”

Will set his tea carefully down on the cushion beside him, eyes wandering to the scenery outside. “I’ll never forget what they did to me, but I keep reminding myself… They were under Stanford’s influence. They were just trying to please him… Mason was, at least. His sister is a little different. She’s not as… I don’t think she feels guilty at all for what she did to me.”

Mabel glanced down at Will’s free hand, contemplating reaching out and taking it. She didn’t, though. “Really? Not even a little bit?”

“I’m unsure,” Will admitted. “She never shows remorse. It’s probably because she can’t relate to me like Mason does. It could be an innate trait – that family does have a unique genetic history – but she could have just learned it from Stanford. She never opened up to me when I worked for her, so I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but… she’s not really my problem anymore. I won’t dwell on it.”

“I hope you can forget about all of that,” Mabel told him sincerely. “All the abuse. And if not, I hope everyone gives you a proper apology for the hell they put you through.”

“As do I… And, Mabel?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I be honest with you for a moment?”

* * *

 

Ford returned from the library, a stack of books in hand. He set them down with a heavy thud on the dining room table, pulled one out from the tower, and carried it into the living room, where the Gleeful twins were still watching movies. Their position changed, so that Mabel was curled up against her brother, head on his shoulder. When she saw Ford, her eyes became fixated on him, and she glared and sat up, adjusting her hair. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he apologized, and handed her a book. “I checked this out for you two. I thought it would help you understand what Stanford did to your brother. It looks like a good book – it has a section on self-help, if you need it. Ideally, I’d send you to therapy, but I don’t know how long you’ll be staying in this dimension. I’m also not sure how healthcare from other dimensions works, so…”

“Thanks,” said Mason curtly, eyeing the book’s title warily. “Not interested in seeing a shrink, but thanks. We’ll read it.”

“Don’t knock until you tried it,” Ford advised him with a smile. “Therapy could be very beneficial. A psychologist could teach you healthy coping mechanisms for dealing with the effects of abuse.”

Mason responded only with a pointed look that silently asked Ford to shut up, and shifted closer to his sister while reaching for the TV remote, turning up the volume. Ford wasn’t particularly adept in social situations, but took that as his cue to leave, taking his other books to the basement with him. Once he was gone, Mabel began cuddling up to Mason again, absentmindedly leafing through the pages while her brother skimmed the words over her shoulder.

After half an hour passed, Mabel was reading the book, starting somewhere in the middle (with whatever piqued her attention the most), while Mason lost interest and kept his eyes on the television. There was a classic black-and-white film playing, with some sappy romantic plot full of overdone clichés that Mason was well-acquainted with from his novels. But, no matter how much he believed the plot to be dull and uninteresting, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. The acting was superb, and he felt something surge through his chest when the man roughly grabbed the woman by her arms and passionately confessed his love for her, and the woman became teary-eyed. Against his will, he began imagining making a confession to someone – Will Cipher? About how he felt guilty for hurting him, about how he missed when Will would take care of him, tending for him while sick, making him tea, fetching his medicine in secret… His cheeks flushed red (he could blame his rosacea) with embarrassment when it occurred to him that he’d been unconsciously thinking of Will as more than a caregiver. Or maybe he’d read too much about Freud’s theories.

Really, what was Will to him? Surely, not just a servant. There was an intimate attachment to the demon, for sure, and he’d only recently been able to reflect on it. There was the possibility that the feeling was romantic. Mason had known for a while that, like many great literary figures – Oscar Wilde, Herman Melville, and T.S. Elliot, to name a few – he was attracted to men. It wasn’t an exclusive attraction, he knew, because having his sister on his lap turned him on too, but he’d never had a chance to explore his sexuality. Admitting to Stanford the possibility that he was gay was more of a nightmare than him discovering his anxiety disorder. His great-uncle had never expressed outright disapproval of alternate sexualities, but his strict traditional views revolving around family dynamics suggested that he’d oppose it, and would discipline or at least berate Mason for being gay. He’d never told his sister, either, in case she told Stanford.

He hadn’t told Will (although the demon probably guessed at some point), so he’d never discussed it out loud. Maybe Mason was confusing the attraction for something else. Maybe he simply admired men, and didn’t want to have relations with them at all. Of course, since he was _most likely_ gay, he couldn’t rule out the possibility of being interested in Will.

But what were the other options? Perhaps he felt so close to Will because he was desperate for someone to care for him in Stanford’s emotional absence, and confused that desperation for another kind of attraction. Alternatively, he was imagining the attraction, but the illusion felt real enough for him to consider it an intimate relationship.

Lost in his thoughts, Mason forgot to pay attention to the movie, and when he looked up at the screen again, the credits were rolling. He sighed and began flipping through channels, looking for something else to watch. “Sister dear, is there anything you want to see?”

She didn’t respond.

“Mabel, what channel do you want to watch?” he repeated, louder this time.

She glanced up and blinked, false lashes fluttering. “Oh. Don’t care.”

“I’m going to put on something you’ll find boring,” he teasingly threatened, going to the history channel. Mabel merely shrugged indifferently, ignoring her brother and dropping her gaze back down to the book.

* * *

 

“Mabel?” Stanford knocked on the door to the room he’d last seen his niece in, then pushed it open, perplexed to find that it was empty. After sweeping his gaze over the room to confirm this, he turned to Bill. “I’m sorry, give me a moment to find her. This house is enormous, after all.” He adjusted his cape and walked down the hall, calling for Mabel.

His efforts fruitless, he ventured upstairs and knocked on the door to her bedroom, and when there was no response, opened it. “Mabel, my dear?”

For Bill, watching the confusion and slight panic growing on Stanford’s expression and in the tone of his voice was admittedly amusing. He didn’t know where Mabel was either, but something about this composed man losing his shit over a girl brought a grin to his face.

After checking the basement (coming up empty-handed, of course), Stanford pulled a cellphone from his pocket, calling her.

“You let those kids have phones?” Bill asked in disbelief. “Don’t you shelter them like crazy?”

“They have phones for emergencies. Hush.” Stanford held up his finger, listening to the ringing tone.

The call didn’t go through. Stanford sent her a quick text that Bill glanced over to read.

_‘Where are you? Come back immediately. I need to have a talk with you.’_

“Not threatening at all,” Bill remarked sarcastically.

“What does that mean?” Stanford asked dryly. “I just told her to come home.”

“Never mind, Mister Out-Of-Touch-With-How-To-Text-Young-People.”

Stanford glared at him, then glanced at the phone screen again. The message hadn’t been delivered, indicating that her phone was probably off. “…We need to find her.”

“Why? Just wait for her to come home on her own,” said Bill, and he raised his eyebrows suggestively. “In the meantime, we’ve got the house to ourselves, right?”

Ignoring his flirtatious tone, Stanford put away his phone and made a beeline for the front door. “She’s never done this before,” he said, and although his voice was low and smooth as usual, Bill could sense his rising dread. “Something could have happened to her. I’m going to go drive around and see if she’s visiting Pacifica, or, heaven forbid, Gideon… Then again, she could also be downtown, or at the mall… I don’t know. Join me or stay here, I don’t care.”

Bill trailed behind Stanford, hopping into the car with him and not bothering with a seatbelt. “You’re pretty worked up over this, huh? What if she’s just taking a walk somewhere?”

“She shouldn’t leave the house without my permission or knowledge,” said Stanford though gritted teeth, his fingers curling around the steering wheel. “If she did, she’d need a very good explanation as to why.”

“You’re really upset about this,” the demon pointed out.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Mabel is my niece, my blood, my… If something bad happened to her…” Stanford could barely finish his sentences as he backed out of the driveway, going well over the speed limit as he drove into town. “I have to find her, no matter what.”

* * *

 

“You gave them a _book?_ ” Stan asked in disbelief.

“What’s wrong with that?” Ford retorted defensively as he spun around in his chair to face his brother. “Growing up, I wish we’d had some form of education regarding the subject of abuse, so I figured that I’d provide it to them.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Can’t you just sit them down and talk to them like a normal person? I can’t think of a more antisocial way to help those kids.”

Ford adjusted his glasses as he glared at Stan from behind them. “I think a book is a perfectly acceptable way to teach them about what happened. I noticed Mason is very introverted and would probably appreciate that form of intervention. And they know that they can talk about it with me if they want.”

“Uh-huh. That sounds like a solid plan.”

“This will certainly benefit Mason. But… I’m not sure about Mabel. She doesn’t strike me as the academic type. She’s more like our Mabel.” Ford turned back to his work, pulling out a sheet of scratch paper with hasty notes scrawled on it. “She has more energy, tends to make crueler jokes… Did you notice her playing with her hair? She’s self-conscious about her appearance. Mason, on the other hand, is quiet, slouches, and shows at least a small amount of respect for me. I’ve been observing them and Will, and noticed that Mason and Will are closest in personality types-“

“You’ve been _what?_ ”

“-But Mabel and Will have the same habit of becoming tense and staring at me whenever I walk into a room,” Ford finished before addressing Stan’s question. “What? It’s natural for us to make observations about the people around us. It’s how we read social cues and figure out how to behave around others.”

Stan approached his brother’s desk, studying his notes. “It’s normal to observe, but _slightly_ less normal to take notes on behavior. It makes you look like some kind of psychopath.”

“I’m trying to assess them and see how we can help them recover,” Ford insisted. “Unless you have a better idea, I’m going to continue these observations. You know, they aren’t the only people I’ve documented. I’ve written about you, Dipper, our Mabel, Soos…”

“That makes it weirder,” Stan pointed out. “You can’t convince me that sitting alone in the basement writing about the mannerisms of kids from another dimension isn’t weird. I’m leaving, and leaving you alone with your weirdness.”

“Fantastic,” Ford replied sardonically. “You can give those kids the face-to-face chat you mentioned. See if it’s more effective than the book.”

When Stan didn’t reply, Ford figured that meant he didn’t plan on talking to the twins, either, and shrugged off their conversation, returning to his work after Stan left. However, his mind strayed from it as he couldn’t stop thinking about the connections between the twins from the other dimension.

Without a doubt, his greatest fear was becoming his father, who was, although a generally good man, emotionally unavailable and abusive to his brother. He saw those traits manifested in Stanford Gleeful (going by the accounts of Mabel Gleeful, Mason Gleeful, and Will – he’d never met the man in person), and in understanding that, wanted nothing more than to be the opposite of him, provide a sanctuary for Mason, and teach him and his sister that they, like Ford himself, didn’t have to end up like their caretaker.

* * *

 

Mabel Pines drove herself and Will back to the house, so she could pack up and get ready to leave. The date had gone well; Will admitted he had a crush on her (she figured), she told him that she liked him a lot, but didn’t know how she felt about dating a demon. Will understood, and said he’d miss having her around.

More surprising than the love confession was another declaration from Will. He took both of Mabel’s hands and told her that, if not for her and Dipper, he would have lost all hope of escaping the grasp of the Gleefuls, and might have never been able to escape. She’d instilled within him the optimism he needed to analyze the situation he was in, helped Mason understand that he needed to break the deal, and ultimately was the key to his freedom.

Mabel and Will walked inside, and after exchanging polite smiles, Mabel went upstairs to pack, and Will strolled into the living room to find the Gleeful twins still on the couch.

“How was your date?” Mason asked, not taking his eyes off the television, having seen Will’s blue hair in peripheral.

“Fantastic, thank you. Mabel Pines is a wonderful person. Have we decided what to do about the sleeping situation? Who’s going to share the upstairs room with Dipper, and who’s sleeping out here?”

Mabel Gleeful quietly shut the book and looked up at Will. “I don’t want to sleep in the bed Mabel Pines was in. She got her germs all over it, probably. I’ll sleep on the mattress.”

“I was thinking of taking the couch,” Mason added. “So, I guess you can have the bedroom with Dipper.”

Pleasantly surprised by the easy solution to their sleeping dilemma, Will smiled brightly. “Excellent!” he declared, and cheerfully left the living room. After thinking on it for a moment, he then opened a portal to another dimension, again hit by surprise. He was unused to the feeling of using magic and not feeling utterly drained afterword. Opening portals used only the smallest fraction of his demonic power, so after he flexed his fingers and grinned, he stepped through the swirling mass and disappeared from that realm.

Spending time with the Pines family was undeniably pleasant, but he wanted time alone, too. In his space-like dimension, Will reclined, letting himself be lifted into the air and float there, as though he was held up by a gentle, placid ocean of stars and shades of blue and violet.

So strange to be free again. His mind wandered to the Gleefuls often, no matter how hard he tried to clear his mind. Stanford’s face, flashing through his mind. Mabel’s cold laugh and unempathetic eyes. Mason’s dull stare and gaunt features.

He valued his alone time greatly when living with the Gleefuls, but now, things were different. He was feeling anxious, uncertain, and… like there was no purpose in this. Shouldn’t he be helping the Pines clean and cook dinner? Shouldn’t he be talking to the Gleeful twins, who were struggling without the assistance of a servant?

Somehow, being alone didn’t feel right anymore. What was his purpose now?

* * *

 

Dipper, Ford, Stan, and the Gleeful twins enjoyed dinner in the kitchen this time, able to fit around the table. Mabel ate half of hers before pushing her plate away and turning to her brother. “When can I go home and get my things? I need my nightgown and tomorrow’s clothes.”

“I don’t know when it’ll be safe for you to go back,” Mason said softly in response. “Sorry. Maybe you can borrow clothes, like I did.”

“Ew.” She stuck out her tongue. “I’m not borrowing clothes from anyone.”

Stan finally noticed that Mabel stopped eating. “Are you okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “Sick or something?”

Mabel glanced up at him, her eyebrow raised. “No.”

“Just not hungry?”

“…No.”

“You shouldn’t eat so little,” Ford chided in a kind tone. “Restricting nutrition can lead to all kinds of deficits, my dear, so-“

“Don’t call me that,” Mabel suddenly snapped.

Ford blinked, startled. “…I’m sorry. Anyways, you should try to finish what’s on your plate.”

Mabel looked down at her plate, eyeing the food with disinterest. It didn’t taste bad. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Stan did a good job cooking. No, she just didn’t have the appetite for it. But knowing Ford was watching, she picked up her fork and took a hesitant bite. She didn’t feel particularly compelled to keep eating, but ate another quarter before putting her fork down again, instinctively looking back up at Ford when she was done. He gave her a slight smile, but didn’t push her to keep eating.

Later that evening, in the living room, Mason had his Tarot deck out on the coffee table, playing with the cards with no particular purpose. Ford then took notice, and entered the living room. He made sure his movements were slow and deliberate, as to not startle the twins. As usual, they both watched him carefully. “Hi, Mason,” he greeted. “I see you’re using your Tarot cards. Do you mind showing me how it works?”

Mason gave a sardonic laugh. “I thought you didn’t believe in this kind of thing, Mr. Scientist.”

More amused than insulted, Ford knelt across from Mason at the table and replied, “I don’t, but you’ve made me curious.”

Mason smirked, but gathered up his deck and carefully spread out the cards in front of Ford. “Okay. Ask a question, then hold your hand – right hand – over the cards, and pick the one that you feel is the one that the universe is willing you to pick.”

Ford, also smiling, nodded. “Okay… What kind of question?”

“Anything. I suggest asking about a future event, or help making a decision.”

After a moment, Ford nodded and said, “Right. Um… Tarot cards, how do I help these Gleeful children?”

Mabel glanced over from the couch at that moment, and both she and her brother eyed Ford with an unreadable, piercing stare, but both said nothing as Ford chose a card and placed it face-up on the table, separate from the others. To Mason, it was right-side up, and he quickly recognized it as The World.

As per procedure, he asked, “What did you feel when you saw the card? And felt it in your hand?”

“I… felt like it was a card,” Ford confessed. “The surface is glossy, and the back has a bit of texture to it-“

“What did you feel _emotionally?_ ”

Ford frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe a little apprehensive.”

“That’s better.” Mason placed his index finger on the card, eyeing it. “This is The World, which you pulled out upside-down, which means that the meaning is a little different. You want to know how to help us, but the Tarot says that you will find little or no closure.” He swallowed, now fearful of his own fate. “This could mean many things. Something could happen to us, leaving you uncertain of our wellbeing. You could help us, but be unsure of how you did it. Or… You will help us, only to ultimately fail in the end.” He glanced up, making direct eye contact with the older man. “Please remember that the cards do not necessarily dictate your future. This is merely a glimpse into what might happen.”

Ford stroked his chin, a troubled expression befalling his face. “Well… Good thing I don’t believe in fate,” he said, the worry vanishing from his features. “But that was interesting, nonetheless. Oh, I was wondering. You said something earlier – something about things that can’t be explained by science. Could you elaborate?”

Mason was gathering up his cards. “Yeah. The doctors tell me that I’m going to die before I’m 40. They tell me that I’ll keep getting sick, and that I should just get used to it and start wearing a flu mask and gloves everywhere.” Before tucking away his cards in the backpack Dipper loaned him, he ran his fingers over the back of one of them. “The cards tell me that there’s still hope.”

* * *

 

Eventually, Mabel agreed to borrow some clothes to wear as pajamas, but only after insisting that they go through the washer and dryer beforehand. When she stepped back into the living room, makeup off, hair up, and wearing an oversized T-shirt and nothing else, Mason’s eyes went wide. When was the last time he’d seen his sister look so normal? Her face no longer covered with foundation, no longer sculpted with contour and blush; her eyebrows sparse and plucked half to death no longer filled in with product; her lips appearing thinner and less glossy… She resembled Mabel Pines much more. She noticed her brother staring, and crossed her arms. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing…” Mason breathed. “Just… You…”

“I know I look like shit,” she said curtly, and sat down on the air mattress beside him. “You don’t need to point it out.”

“You don’t look like shit,” Mason protested. “You’re just… different. Your hair looks good like that. And I forgot your eyelashes aren’t that long.”

Mabel fixed him with an icy glare, but didn’t respond.

Mason coughed awkwardly. “Anyways, uh… You want to watch TV before bed?”

“Whatever.”

As Mason turned on the television and made himself comfortable (as comfortable as the air mattress would allow), he turned to his sister. “Are you just in a bad mood? That time of the month?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re in a bad mood. What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

Her curt responses were typical of Mabel when she was in a sour mood, so Mason left her alone for a bit, turning his attention to the television. Some weird, psychedelic adult cartoon was playing, and that was eye-catching enough to distract him for a solid half an hour.

He then changed it to something else, something that unsettled him deeply. There was a father yelling at a boy, who was presumably his son, and he threatened to get his belt. The boy was red-faced and crying. Mason wasn’t sure of the context, but immediately turned off the television.

Mabel, who’d been idly watching, said, “Why’d you do that?”

“That kind of thing just makes me uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“What?” Mason frowned. “Like what?”

“Like all of a sudden, you can’t handle stuff like that. It can’t be that bad.”

“What are you talking about, Mabel? I just don’t like watching stuff that I went through… Not that you’d understand.”

“I do understand.” She glowered. “I understand that you’re totally pathetic.”

With rage and frustration creeping into his voice, Mason growled, “You don’t get it.” How could he ever expect her to understand that years of being conditioned to fear Stanford, to fear physical punishment, harsh words, and the threat of alienation from the family was taking its toll on him? Just reading about abuse in novels that he used to enjoy now churned his stomach. “You’ll never get it. You weren’t abused.”

At first, he didn’t understand why she flinched back from his seething words, as if he’d raised a throwing knife in her direction. He didn’t understand why her gaze suddenly fell to her lap. He also didn’t see her fists clenched at her sides, her knuckles white, her pointed fingernails digging into her palms.

The cogs in his mind turned slowly, then clicked into place, ceasing to move, just as Mason froze up. “Mabel,” he said, and she turned her face away from him. “You weren’t abused… Right?”

If she didn’t look at him, he couldn’t see the heavy tears forming in her eyes that blurred her vision, and the way her cheeks and nose turned bright red and raw-looking, as though someone had taken a paintbrush, dipped it in crimson, and slashed it across her face. She reached up, wiping her eyes furiously, but her effort to stop the tears was futile. They rolled down to her chin, dropping to the blanket below her.

Mason, on the other hand, found the color drained from his cheeks in horror, although there was fury boiling within him, too – a pure, unadulterated rage for whoever dared to harm his sister. The question wasn’t who had done it, though, for Mason already knew. He grabbed his sister by her shoulders, roughly turning her to face him, and he, for the first time, gazed upon his sister’s crying face. Part of him was inspired to cry, too. When had Mabel ever cried? Mabel was always the strong twin. He’d never seen her appear so vulnerable, and it shook him to the core. But, instead of crying, he said firmly, staring into her blurry eyes, “What did Stanford _do_ to you?”


	21. Persuade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone. Recently, someone posted a quote from this story on tumblr and attributed it to "random story you don't need to know about." This was really upsetting to me because I've invested now a year's worth of time and effort into this fic, with chapters ranging from 3,000-6000 words each. This is a huge undertaking for me as someone who doesn't often write fanfiction. For people to think of this as a "random" story and not an effort-filled project, to take a quote and not direct it to the source because people "don't need to know" about it, is very disheartening. I do want people to know about and read my story! Please, if you enjoy my work and want to use quotes from it, attribute it, so others can find it and enjoy it. Thank you!
> 
> That being said, I still plan on finishing this story. Thank you everyone for reading, for the 400+ kudos, the 40 bookmarks, the 100 subscriptions, and over 100 comments! All of that means a lot to me. 
> 
> This chapter has the typical warnings that are also in the tags. Mentions of childhood sexual assault, violence, and incest. Please don't force yourself to read it if these subjects don't sit well with you!

The Gleeful twins referred to each other with mockingly endearing nicknames (“dear brother” and “darling sister”). It was a habit that formed from their stage personas. In the audience’s eyes, they loved each other dearly, but they both knew how truly distant they were from each other.

Then again, they had an odd relationship. In lieu of an emotional bond, Mabel flirtatiously teased Mason and kissed him, and Mason reciprocated without hesitation, appreciating the way she ran his hands over his jaw and through his hair. He wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. For want of a relationship as a teenager, as Stanford isolated him and Mabel from others their age, he found his sister’s advances thrilling. They gave him a chance to explore his own sexuality as a budding adult.

Once, Mason – and he vividly recalled this as he held his crying sister protectively in his arms – he tried to take things further than usual. He was sixteen and driven by the surge of hormones that typically plagued teenagers, so while Mabel was holding him against the wall, kissing him and dominating him in her typical fashion, he’d desperately reversed their positions and slipped his hand up her skirt, grabbing her thigh and digging his fingernails into her pale, supple skin. She’d been rough with him sometimes, so he’d figured there was nothing wrong with returning the favor. To his surprise, she’d immediately shoved him back and kicked his shin before swiftly walking from the room. He’d attributed her response to her volatile personality and her tendency to make unpredictable, violent behaviors, brushing it off. Since they never brought it up in conversation, Mason had nearly forgotten all about it (although he learned his lesson, and never again tried to touch her inappropriately).

Now, Mason wasn’t so sure why she reacted that way. Gently, he took Mabel’s’ cheeks in his hands, studying her teary blue eyes. She stared back. “When did it happen?” he asked softly, pushing away stray hairs glued to her face with tears.

After a few shuddering breaths, Mabel wiped her eyes on her T-shirt. “…Um… a while ago. Eleven. Wait… Stanford wasn’t there until… Twelve?”

_Twelve?_ The color drained from Mason’s face. He was making inferences, but if they were correct, then Stanford was somehow viler than he originally thought. He knew already that the man was capable of great evil, evidenced by abusing his nephew, disowning his brother, and torturing his former lover and intimidating him into becoming his servant, but in Mason’s eyes, those deeds paled in comparison to whatever he did to Mabel – his sister. Mason could live with being abused, but if he’d known that Stanford hurt Mabel too, he would have figured out a way to escape sooner. How dare he? How could he lay so much as a finger on her? How fucking _despicable_ did he have to be to hurt a child?

“What exactly did he do?” Mason asked, keeping his voice as soft as possible.

Mabel took in a shuddering breath. “He… I’m overreacting,” she said, pulling away from Mason. “It wasn’t that bad… I don’t know w-why I’m crying so much…” She forced out a laugh. “I probably look like a mess… Um… Yeah. Not that bad.” But after a moment, another wave of tears hit her, and she collapsed back into Mason, her hands shaking as she clutched his shirt.

Unsure of what to do, he began petting her hair, hoping it would help calm her. “No, Mabel, it’s okay… You’re probably not overreacting. Um…” He dreaded the response to the question as it slipped from his mouth. “Did he rape you?”

“No,” whispered Mabel once she could form words again, prompting a too-early sigh of relief from her brother. Mason didn’t think that the image of Stanford hitting Mabel or verbally abusing her was any more pleasant, but he much preferred that over that over what he initially assumed. Then, Mabel continued, and he could feel his heart sinking deeper with each word she spoke. “He – he touched me… It hurt. But he never went so far as to – do anything else.” Her words were slurred slightly, and each breath trembled, Mason noticed. Seeing her like this, recalling what awful thing Stanford had done to her was miserable (not more miserable than it was for her to be talking about this, of course). And knowing that Stanford was the source of this misery only fueled his hatred for him.

He felt like, on one hand, he shouldn’t believe it. He’d never seen it happen. There was no indication growing up that anything was wrong. Then again, it felt entirely in the realm of possibility. Stanford was a horrible person. He and Mabel did spend a lot of time together alone. And, he couldn’t doubt Mabel’s sobbing. This was no façade; his sister was truly hurt. Still, he had to ask, “You’re not fucking with me, are you? Twelve?” When she nodded, he added, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

She just sniffled and shrugged, glancing off to the side. “Um…He told me not to tell you… or Will…”

Mason was overwhelmed by the information she was presenting to him. He continued to stare at her, and when she noticed this, she said quietly, reiterating what she’d said earlier. “It wasn’t that bad… I’m fine now…”

His mouth hung agape for a moment in bewilderment. How could she say that, when her tears hadn’t even dried yet? “Mabel, he-“ Anger choked him, and he swallowed. “He took advantage of you when you were twelve. When you were a child!”

“I wasn’t…” Mabel began to protest softly, but suddenly fell quiet, gathering her thoughts. “I was… a child… wasn’t I?”

She took Mason’s hand, squeezing it, her slender fingers wrapping around his. “God, Mason,” she whispered, lowering her head to repeat, “I was a _child_.”

* * *

 

When Dipper fell asleep, he was alone in the attic room, but upon waking, he found himself facing Will Cipher, who was nestled into the bed across from him. By coincidence, as soon as Dipper opened his eyes, Will did, too. He smiled warmly at Dipper and stretched in the warm sunlight that leaked in through the window. “Good morning,” he sighed. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah… Surprisingly. You?”

He shrugged. “I spent half the night awake in the other dimension, but once I got here, I slept just fine. Do you want breakfast?”

Dipper sat up and nodded. “You really don’t have to keep cooking for us. That’s really nice of you, but don’t feel obligated.”

“I’m indebted to you,” replied Will cheerfully. “You saved me from Stanford Gleeful! It’s really the least I can do.”

Dipper smiled as Will left the room after adjusting the clothes he’d slept in (he was wearing the sweater Mabel knitted him, that was nice), then got up to dress himself. Having Will in the house was a blessing that he shouldn’t take for granted.

He came downstairs to find Will in the kitchen, getting out ingredients for omelets, and when he walked by the living room’s entrance, he noticed Mabel and Mason Gleeful, still asleep on the mattress, arms wrapped around each other. He frowned, puzzled because Mabel adamantly insisted that she not share a space with Mason earlier, and dismayed that the scene seemed so… romantic. Or sexual. Either way, it wasn’t the vibe that twins should give off. He shuddered at the thought and went to the kitchen, sitting at the table and pulling out his phone to pass the time before Will finished cooking.

The smell of fresh coffee was probably what drew Stan and Ford into the kitchen, too. Out of curiosity, Dipper glanced up when Ford entered the kitchen. Will hadn’t even flinched at the sound of his footsteps and greeted both men with a bright smile. Dipper smiled, too. It was so good to see that Will was doing better.

It seemed that everything was looking up for them.

That is, until the Gleeful twins finally joined them, just as Will was setting out plates. They both looked exhausted, Dipper noticed.

While eating, Mason nudged his sister. “Should we tell them?” he murmured.

Mabel’s harsh response had him wincing like he’d been stung. “Mason, shut the _fuck_ up.”

“…Okay.”

Their exchange immediately left Stan and Ford concerned. “Did something happen?” Ford asked. “Anything we should know about?”

“Nothing,” snapped Mabel, glaring up at Ford. The fires of hell paled in comparison to the rage that shone in her eyes. Dipper immediately felt defensive on behalf of his great-uncle. What had he done to warrant that attitude from her?

Will interrupted the tense situation, bringing out coffee mugs for everyone before bringing a chair to the corner of the table between Ford and Dipper. “I hope it’s to everyone’s liking,” he said cheerfully.

Mason raised his cup to his nose, inhaling the scent before sipping it tentatively. How did Will get the ratio of milk and sugar perfect every single time?

Unbeknownst to him, Mabel was watching him drink with her lips pressed together and her brow furrowed in confusion. “Since when do you put all that in your coffee? I thought you only liked black coffee.”

“I really prefer it with almond milk and sugar,” Mason corrected her.

Will spoke up, clarifying the situation for Mabel. “He only drinks black coffee around your great-uncle. He thinks that by imitating him, he’ll like him more.”

Will’s statement had Mason’s face turn bright red with embarrassment and indignance. The demon was absolutely right – he took his coffee black with a bit of sugar more often than not, despite preferring it otherwise, so that Stanford would notice and think he was more masculine for drinking it in its more bitter, undiluted form – but he didn’t have to say it out loud, did he?

While Mason was embarrassed, Mabel just studied Mason for a moment, and dropped her gaze back to her breakfast.

Mason wasn’t socially gifted, so not understanding her response, he nudged her. “What is it?” he murmured.

“Nothing.”

“You know,” Stan said, putting his elbows on the table and leaning toward the twins. “You shouldn’t feel like you have to impress your great-uncle. Don’t change what you do to be like someone else. Even if you look up to them.” Oddly serious, he added, “You’re never gonna be anyone but yourself. Don’t waste your time trying to be like anyone else, okay?” His gaze was focused on Mason, who returned the stare with serious blue eyes.

“I understand. But do you understand the situation we were in?” Mason asked. “I had to try to live up to his expectations. If I didn’t act like him, if I didn’t act like I ‘belonged in the family,’ he’d probably abuse me even more.”

Mabel glanced up at Mason’s use of the word ‘abuse,’ then back down, as though she had something to say, but thought better of it.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. Being the black sheep of the family sucks,” Stan affirmed. “You know that no matter what you do, you’re never gonna make your family happy. So sometimes the best thing you can do is cut yourself off from them. Be independent. Pursue your own interests.”

“I wish I could,” Mason sighed, dropping his gaze to his food. “…I have to go back to Stanford eventually, though. He pays for my medical treatments.”

“And he’s our manager,” Mabel put in quietly. “For our show. We wouldn’t have jobs without him.”

“It would be irresponsible of us to let you go back to an abusive home,” Ford said, his forehead creased with worry. “Is it possible for you to return to your parents’ house?”

The Gleeful twins exchanged glances, and Mason briefly looked to Will, as though asking the demon for an answer that he didn’t have. “Well,” began Mason. “Our parents aren’t… I mean, they’re…”

“They wouldn’t want us,” said Mabel bluntly. “We caused them too much trouble when we were kids. It was way too easy to convince them to let us live with Great-Uncle Stanford.”

“They’re not bad people,” Mason added quickly. “They’re nice. I guess we could live with them. It would just be… weird.”

Stan rested one elbow on the table to prop up his chin. “What kind of trouble did you get into? And don’t be shy. I was a real troublemaker myself.”

Mabel was the first to respond, having a more extensive history with making issues for others. “In elementary school, a kid pulled my hair, so I roundhouse-kicked him in the face,” she said, almost proudly. “I got suspended for that. I also fought the other girls when we played house so I could have the best role.”

Mason was smiling a bit at the memories of their childhood. “Remember when I started doing Tarot card readings in fourth grade, Belle?” He nudged his sister with his elbow. “And I told that kid the death card meant he was going to die? And he started crying. He really believed me.”

“That was funny,” she agreed, now also smiling. “You got detention for that?”

“Suspension. I got detention for reading in class instead of paying attention to the teacher.”

Mabel turned back to Stan and Ford. “So, our parents weren’t really happy with us. They had to pull us out of school after fifth grade,” she explained. “We were homeschooled for a year before we went to spend the summer with Great-Uncle Stanley. Then there was the portal incident, and…” Suddenly, the smile fell from her face. “…and Great-Uncle Stanford came, got rid of Stanley, and took over the Tent of Telepathy business.”

Mason put his hand on her arm to comfort her, but she shifted away from it. He took the hint.

“We’ll see about returning you to your parents, then,” Ford concluded. “Would Stanford Gleeful be okay with that?”

“…Yes?” Mason guessed. “He’d be happy to get rid of me, at least. But he’s going to be mad about the thing with Will.”

The demon glanced up. “Just lie to him. Tell him I went missing, and you can’t find me.”

“Easier said than done,” Mason scoffed.

“I lie to him frequently,” Will replied with a hint of a smirk. “It’s quite simple. As long as the lie is reasonable, he’ll buy it.”

Dipper eyed Will cautiously. Earlier, his sister texted him about Will stealing money from Stanford. He could understand stealing and lying, given his horrible living situation, but the demon seemed almost too smug about it. He had a moral compass, right?

Mason shrugged. “I guess… We’ll see.”

* * *

 

After a sleepless night of worrying over his missing niece, Stanford Gleeful was a wreck. While searching for Mabel downtown, he’d purchased a pack of cigarettes and to smoke away his stress while looking. Sleepless and with nicotine still in his system, he poured himself a cup of coffee with shaking hands before turning to Bill. Noticeably, he had dark circles beneath his eyes, and his usually stony gaze was blunted with exhaustion.

“You look like shit,” Bill remarked. “Don’t you humans need seven hours of sleep every night? That’s what Ford Pines always told me.”

“I can’t imagine sleeping while Mabel’s missing,” he replied, lifting the hot drink to his lips, not minding that it scalded his tongue.

“Why don’t you just give up?” Bill suggested, the notion making Stanford’s eye twitch.

“You don’t understand, Bill. I need her back. She’s my niece. She’s my heir. She’s the future of the Gleeful family. I can’t lose her.”

Bill raised an eyebrow. “You sure gave up on the other kid real quick.”

Stanford gripped his mug and fixed Bill with a furious but worn-down glare. “Mason is not involved in this family. He isn’t my heir, and he certainly won’t be having children to continue our bloodline. His genes are flawed, and his values are corrupt.”

“So, Mabel’s got good genes? Is that what the ‘heir’ thing is about?” Bill inquired, hopping up on the kitchen counter to sit there. “You just want her to have kids?”

“Don’t oversimplify the matter. She also has the values of a true Gleeful and is fit to carry on my line of work. That’s why she’s my apprentice. But, yes, her genes are ideal.”

“What if she screws a dude with not-ideal genes?”

“That won’t happen.”

“Forced marriage, then?” Bill guessed.

“I’ll give her a selection of future husbands. They’ll be wealthy, of course, so our family remains well-off. But otherwise, I don’t care who she chooses or what he looks like. She won’t need to copulate with her husband. I’m not keen on the idea of introducing impure genes into our family.”

Bill paused, quietly thinking over Stanford’s cryptic words. Then, he snapped his fingers. “I get it!” he announced proudly. “…Oh. Wait. That’s grody. Is she okay with that?”

“If she understands her duty as a woman in our family, she will be,” Stanford assured him. “Of course, if she refuses, all I need to do is persuade her that it’s the right thing to do.”

“Good luck persuading that hot-headed bitch,” Bill scoffed, ignoring the glare from Stanford. “Judging from what Will told me, it seems like she’s really hard to convince of anything.”

Stanford set down his mug, watching Bill for a moment. “…Do you happen to know where Will is, by the way?”

“Nah. But if I had to guess, he’s in the space-y dimension or the Pines family’s dimension.”

Tired eyes suddenly glittering with interest, he asked, “Can you take me there? To the Pines’ dimension?”

Bill, noticing his sudden attentiveness, grinned. He hadn’t previously had an opportunity to seduce Stanford, but here was his chance. Proving himself was the perfect way to lure him in deeper into a relationship. “Sure,” he replied with a toothy grin. “I’d be happy to.”

* * *

 

Mason and Mabel retreated to the living room, where they spent most of their time. Dipper followed Ford into the basement lab, while Stan went out to get groceries.

In the living room, Mabel and Mason sat on the couch together, quietly watching television. Not having been exposed to it much until now, Mason was fascinated by it, and had taken a liking to classic, black-and-white films, while Mabel was content watching whatever was on. While an Alfred Hitchcock film was on, Mabel moved closer to her brother, resting her head on his shoulder. “What do you want to do after we go home?” she murmured. “To mom and dad, I mean. Start another magic business? Even without Will’s magic, I can throw knives and do illusions, and you’ve got the card readings.”

“Interacting with people is still hazardous to my health,” Mason reminded her. “I’d like to quit magic shows altogether.” With a quiet sigh, he added, “I want to go to university… I miss regular school. I miss learning.”

“You can learn from books,” Mabel pointed out.

“But university’s different,” Mason argued. “I can learn from experts – real life people. And I can graduate and get a degree! Imagine how satisfying it would be, to hold a diploma, a physical symbol of academic prowess and determination to succeed!”

Mabel began laughing quietly before asking, “So that’s what you fantasize about, brother dear?” She then began making soft, sexual moans that grew progressively louder. “Oh, university~! Diplomas~! Reading textbooks~!” she exclaimed, making a jerking-off motion with her hand. Then, she stopped and grinned devilishly up at her brother. “That’s you,” she clarified. “That’s what you sound like.”

“You’re the worst,” Mason muttered, gently shoving her, but she just fell back into place beside him, laughing again. “Don’t you want to go back to school, too?”

“Definitely not. That sounds boring. Don’t you just spend four years studying to get a piece of paper that says, ‘Congratulations, you’re smart?’”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but the gratification of the achievement-“

“The _gratification?_ ” She made the lewd hand motion again.

Mason nudged her again. “Don’t be a smart-ass. You know what I mean. Education just seems so fulfilling. Stanford’s home-schooling was… not. He always told me to study more, even though I wasn’t getting anything out of it.”

Mabel’s smile diminished, now thinking about the issue. “I guess it was different for me, because I was his apprentice… I was eventually gonna take over his work, so I had to read all the boring biology stuff.”

“So, what would you do if we started living with mom and dad again?” Mason asked curiously. “You’re not an apprentice, and you don’t want to apply to college…”

“I dunno.”

“No idea at all? What if you got… a normal job?”

That gave both twins a good laugh. “Sure,” Mabel said in a playful, sarcastic tone. “I’ll start working at a grocery store, or something.”

“I _cannot_ imagine you bagging someone’s groceries.”

“It’s beneath me,” she agreed. “Are there any jobs I’d be good at?”

“I wouldn’t know.” For a moment, Mason paused. “…Stanford always said we wouldn’t do well in the real world. That we don’t have the personalities for normal jobs and school.”

“Do we?”

Mason was silent again, for longer this time. “I… don’t know.”

* * *

 

Meanwhile, in the basement, Dipper had his laptop out, typing up an abstract for Ford’s latest experiment. “Should I just call those things ‘laser guns?’” he asked, pulling out some papers from the stack in front of him. “It’ll simplify things for the audience.”

“It sounds less professional,” Ford replied, adjusting his glasses. “Call it whatever I wrote on the paper.”

Dipper sighed but complied without arguing. While finishing the summary and moving on to the next section, he heard soft footsteps behind him, and turned to see Will, quietly walking up to them. “Hey,” he greeted with a smile. “What’s up?”

Will returned the smile. “I was wondering if you have anything you needed help with,” he said, glancing at Ford, too. “I just finished washing dishes, and the house is otherwise clean…”

“Uh…” Dipper glanced at Ford, who shrugged. “No, I don’t think so. Do you want to hang out down here with us, though?”

After a moment, Will shook his head. “I’ll find something else to do… I think I’ll visit another dimension,” he decided. He waved, opened a portal, and within seconds, was gone.

Dipper looked to his great-uncle again. “Is… he okay?” he asked tentatively. “He seems a little upset.”

“He might just be bored,” Ford theorized. “He was constantly busy under the care of the Gleefuls, and now, he’s got nothing to do.”

“I suppose so. But did you see that look in his eyes? He looks… distant? Tired?”

Ford set down his papers and stroked his chin, running his fingers over gray stubble. “Yes, and did you notice that Mabel Gleeful had the same look this morning at breakfast?” When Dipper furrowed his brow in confusion, he continued, “I’m more concerned about her than Will. Will is a possibly immortal demon. Whatever he’s going through now won’t have much weight on his future. A few years in service to the Gleefuls passes in the blink of an eye with respect to his actual lifespan. With time, he’ll recover. He’s already doing much better.

“But Mabel’s human. She’s likely more delicate than the immortal demon. And I know she suffered at the hands of Stanford, too. She’s nervous around me, and she seems obsessed with her appearance, so I’m hypothesizing that he pushes his standards of beauty on her, and couples that with emotional – or physical – abuse.”

Dipper frowned. “…Yikes.”

“Yikes, indeed. I’m hesitant to send the twins to their own dimension. I want to make sure that they both seek out some kind of professional psychological assessment and treatment, so they’ll be well-adjusted adults.” He exhaled through his nose. “At the same time, I want them to go back to the dimension they belong in. I don’t know if there are consequences to keeping interdimensional travelers here for an extended period of time, and I don’t want to find out, if there are any.”

“Yeah, and having my doppelganger running around would be weird,” Dipper agreed.

Ford thought on that for a moment, then laughed. “That’s what it’s like having a twin brother.”

* * *

 

In the other dimension, Will was resting peacefully, but a slight disturbance made his eyes flutter open. It was a silent and slight vibration of the dimension fabric that usually meant his counterpart, Bill, was opening a portal, but this vibration indicated that he wasn’t alone.

He sighed, exasperated, and closed his eyes. He couldn’t be bothered to wonder who Bill was having a rendezvous with this time.

* * *

 

His gaze taken off of the film, Mason began bothering his sister with questions he’d never had the courage to ask before. “Would you want to find a boyfriend when we go back?”

“Ew.” Mabel scowled. “No. Men are gross.” Seeing Mason’s dismayed expression, she added, “Not you, you’re not gross. Everyone else is.”

“What about Will? Is he gross?”

“He’s a demon.”

“He has male genitalia.”

“Have you seen it?” she quipped. Mason’s cheeks turned red.

“…Once,” he admitted.

She clapped her hands together with delight as she laughed. “Oh my god, that’s rich!”

“So what if I have?” Mason demanded defensively. “He’s seen mine before! And yours, too!”

“Nope.”

“No?”

Mabel shook her head, reclining on the couch. “Nope. Never.”

Mason was perplexed. “What about when he draws baths for you?”

“He’s seen me in my underwear, but not naked. I never let him.” She smirked. “Brother, I hate to break it to you, but I think you might be gay.” His face turned even redder at that, eliciting a quiet gasp from his sister. “Wait, really?”

“…I think so…” he mumbled.

Confusion settled into her features quickly. “No way. Since when? For Will?”

“Sh-“ Mason tried to get her to lower her voice, in case anyone was listening. “I’m still trying to figure it out, and I don’t want Will to know…”

“I was joking.” Mabel was now staring up at him with wide blue eyes. “I thought you were straight! And you’re _gay_ for _Will!”_

“Keep your voice down, my darling sister,” Mason hissed, glancing around, finding luckily that they were still alone. “I’m not interested in dating him. That’s just how I figured out I _might_ be gay.”

Mabel contemplated that momentarily before replying, “Stanford would murder you if he found out.”

“That’s why I haven’t told anyone,” said Mason bitingly.

“Relax. Stanford’s not here.”

Be it the work of a higher power with a twisted sense of humor, or merely some cruel coincidence, as soon as the words left Mabel’s mouth, there was a knock at the front door, and thinking it was Stan returning with an armful of groceries, Mason got up from his place on the couch and opened the door without caution.

On Stanford Gleeful’s request, Bill opened the portal just outside of the Pines’s residence, because suddenly appearing inside the house would be rude. So, when Mason opened the door, he was greeted with the familiar and terrifying expressionless, wrinkled face of his great-uncle. Bill was hanging on his arm, his Cheshire-grin widening in greeting to Mason.

Processing what he was seeing, Mason tried to shut the door, but Stanford stuck his foot in it, stopping it so he could force it open again. Mason was forced to back up, already feeling his anxiety return. How could Stanford be here? Had he come to murder him at last?

The older man invited himself inside, glaring down at Mason. “I hadn’t expected to see you,” he said coolly. “I thought you were dead.”

Mason tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. He just stared at Stanford, trying to will his hands to stop shaking. Should he call for help from Ford? Or Will? Where was Will?

To his relief, Stanford didn’t dwell on him. He began walking down the hall, peering up the staircase, looking in the kitchen.

Clearly, Stanford wasn’t here for him. Was he looking for Will?

It dawned on Mason when Stanford entered the living room, walking over to Mabel.

_Mabel._

Mason couldn’t emphasize enough how emotionally distant he was from his sister, but spending yesterday and this morning bonding with her, joking with her, hearing her laugh, hearing her confess her darkest secret, was renewing their sibling bond. He felt like she was someone worth shielding from further harm, and with protective instincts kicking in, he hurried to the living room doorway to see Mabel standing up from the couch, her posture stiff and wary as Stanford approached her.

“Mabel…” said Stanford coaxingly. “You had me so worried. I didn’t know what happened to you… I’m so glad to see you’re okay.” He extended his hand to her. “Let’s go home, my dear.”

Mabel stared at his hand for a moment, her expression unreadable, eyes distant. When she looked up at him, she said quietly, “No.”

“Mabel,” he repeated in the same smooth voice. “You’re coming home with me.”

“I don’t want to.”

Mason quietly backed up, then turned sprinted to the basement’s entrance. Stanford was here to take his sister away, and while he couldn’t do anything to stop him, he was certain that Ford Pines would be a match for him. Mabel glanced to where her brother once stood, then back to Stanford, who was becoming increasingly forceful with his language.

“I don’t know why you came here,” he said. “I was only here to find Will and ask him where you were. But now that I’ve found you, I’m taking you home.”

She clenched her fists at her side, fingers curling into the white fabric of her dress. “No, you’re not. I don’t want to go home with you. I don’t want to be your apprentice anymore.”

Stanford’s tired face didn’t display outright shock at her defiance, but he seemed slightly distressed.

“I don’t want to be the heir to our fortune,” she continued. “I don’t want to do magic shows. I want to start living with mom and dad again. And Mason.”

“Are you feeling ill? Feverish?” Stanford inquired, taking another step forward, prompting her to take one back in turn. “You’re talking nonsense. Let’s go home now.”

Downstairs, Mason was frantically explaining the situation to Ford, who was shoving his latest invention, a weapon, into his coat pocket. “H-he just showed up at the door… He’s after Mabel, please, you have to stop him,” he begged, his heart pounding against his ribs harder than it ever had before. “He’s going to try to take her away!”

“I know,” said Ford. “Dipper, come upstairs with us.” On the way up, he said, “Do you have your phone? We’ll call the police if necessary.”

“Yes, sir!” said Dipper, his own sense of urgency rising.

The three of them made it upstairs, just as Stanford had Mabel nearly up against the wall, still trying to sway her. “Has your brother been making you delusional? What about your future, Mabel? You’re coming back with me, no matter what. You have duties to fulfil.” Then, he grabbed her wrist, ignoring her exclamation of protest. Then, he turned to see Ford Pines, standing in the doorway with what appeared to be a pistol aimed directly at his counterpart.

Stanford expressed only mild surprise. “Stanford Pines, I presume,” he said with a dip of his head to acknowledge him.

In that moment, Ford realized that the Gleeful twins were fully justified in their fear of this man. It was no wonder that they were so jumpy around him – Stanford Gleeful was an intimidating man, and despite looking just like Ford, somehow appeared more imposing. His awe dissipated quickly, though, and he said in a low voice, “Let go of Mabel. She doesn’t want to leave.”

“That’s none of your business, Mr. Pines.”

“I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

“Then shoot me.”

The brief pause that followed gave Bill the opportunity to sneak up behind Ford, grab his pistol in one hand, and wrap his other arm around Ford’s neck, holding him back while a portal suddenly opened in the living room beside Stanford and Mabel. “Go ahead,” he urged Stanford. “Take her back, before this crazy bastard actually shoots you.”

Ford’s eyes widened, and he began to struggle against the demon’s grip. “Bill? Let go! What are you doing?”

“Helping my new buddy,” Bill explained casually.

While Stanford pulled Mabel toward the portal, Mason briefly forgot his anxiety to rush forward and reach for his sister’s hand. She grabbed it, only to be yanked away a second later and swallowed by the portal. “No!” Mason shouted, just as Stanford slipped into it as well.  But he didn’t follow them through – doing so was surely certain death for him.

Bill, in a sudden and surprising display of strength, shoved Ford to the side, about to follow Stanford through the portal, but he didn’t make it in time. The shot from the pistol made Dipper’s ears ring painfully, and Bill was struck in the shoulder with a powerful burst of light. The gun didn’t shoot bullets, but heavily concentrated light that was sure to leave a nasty burn wound on whoever it struck.

His flesh sizzled as Bill hissed in pain. To protect Stanford, he immediately shut the portal before focusing on healing himself.

“What are you doing?” Ford demanded sharply. “You just helped Stanford Gleeful!”

“I did,” Bill replied, his face contorted with pain.

“Why would you do such a thing?”

Dipper was struck by the raw emotion in Ford’s voice. He’d never known Ford to get so passionately upset about anything.

Bill just laughed. “Because Sixer Two’s gonna actually give me what I want, unlike a certain someone. So he and I struck up a little deal.”

In response, Ford aimed his weapon directly at Bill’s chest and fired, rendering the demon instantly unconscious from the pain.

Mason and Dipper were both shocked by Ford’s apparent lack of empathy for Bill, but Mason looked to him, and said, “…Ford, we’re going to get her back, right?”

“Of course we are,” said Ford firmly, tucking his gun in his pocket. “But we don’t have a means of travel right now.”

“Then we need to find one,” insisted Mason. “Immediately. She’s in danger.”

“Danger?” Ford asked, glancing up, wondering if his hypothesis was correct.

Silence followed, as Mason contemplated revealing his sister’s awful secret. Ford deserved to know, right? “Stanford, he… He sexually assaulted her when she was younger,” he said quietly. “And I’m worried he’ll do it again.”


	22. Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in this chapter for coercion and incest.

While Mason paced restlessly in the hall, Ford was pulling out his old journals from bookshelves, searching for the instructions to summon Bill Cipher. Mason didn’t have Stanford Gleeful’s journals, but Ford figured that they could attempt the same ritual to contact Will. He slammed the second journal down on the kitchen table, flipping through it until he found the incantation. Then, he beckoned Mason over. “Was Will’s ritual different?” he asked the boy, letting him read through the instructions.

“I don’t remember…” Mason mumbled, scanning the incantation. “We used candles, and… No, I don’t remember what else. Sorry.”

Dipper worried that Ford was about to lose his patience and snap at Mason. The man was clearly on-edge, stressed from losing Mabel to his doppelganger, despite his efforts to stop it. But, Ford just let out a heavy sigh and left, returning with an armful of candles. He pushed the kitchen table to the side, placing the candles methodically in a circle.

Dipper spoke up. “What if this only works for Bill?”

“Bill’s unconscious in my living room,” Ford replied, adjusting each candle to create as perfect a circle as possible. “The worst-case scenario is that we lose time.”

“How much time do we have?” Mason asked fretfully, watching Ford work. “We should wake up Bill and make him open another portal!”

Ford scoffed. “Good luck ‘making’ Bill do anything. Dipper, run downstairs and get that vial of blood from the shelf.”

“Blood?” Mason echoed. “We didn’t use blood to summon Will…”

Upon Dipper’s return with a red vial, Ford took it and replied, “I didn’t use blood with Bill, but allegedly, it sends a stronger message to the demon you’re trying to contact. No harm in trying.”

“What kind of blood is it?”

Preoccupied with dropping the blood on the kitchen floor in the shape of a pentagram, Ford didn’t respond. Mason glanced at Dipper, but he didn’t seem concerned, so Mason shrugged it off.

Just then, the front door opened, and Stan returned, carrying a couple bags of groceries. He entered the kitchen, intending to put them away, only to find his brother drawing a blood pentagram, and Dipper and Mason watching on intently.

“…Did something happen while I was gone?”

* * *

 

The instant that Stanford and Mabel stepped into the mansion, appearing in the upstairs, hallway, Mabel was able to wrench her wrist out of Stanford’s grasp. She backed up, crossing her arms, and glaring fiercely at him. “I told you,” she growled. “I didn’t want to come back.”

“Don’t be that way, please,” said Stanford softly. Mabel was surprised to see how exhausted he looked, and how quiet his voice suddenly was, but she stood her ground, still glowering. “I’ve been worried sick about you,” he continued. “I didn’t sleep at all last night because I was out looking for you. You have no idea how happy I am to see that you’re okay… and to have you home again…”

“Did you want me back so you could force me to keep doing magic shows and exploit my talents for money?” she asked acerbically. “And so you could force me to marry someone I don’t know or care about?”

Stanford looked genuinely hurt. “Mabel…”

“Or is it so you can keep teaching me that all demons are evil and that Mason’s insane, so I don’t listen to them when they tell me you’re a disgusting person?” Mabel wasn’t sure how much she believed her own words – she couldn’t erase from her mind the past seven years of believing that Stanford was her role model – but her words were meant to strike a nerve, and they did exactly that. Stanford’s face contorted with dismay, shocked by the strength and acidity of the accusations made by his formerly compliant niece.

Then, a few seconds later, his gaze hardened, his approach shifting. “Mabel,” he said firmly. “I couldn’t say exactly why you’re painting me as a bad person. I can only assume that your brother lied to you and exaggerated the situation. But I won’t exploit you. I value your skills. And I certainly won’t force you into marriage. I’ll select a variety of men that are a good fit for you.”

“How about I choose my own husband?” Mabel snapped, ignoring the warning sign that was Stanford’s dark gaze.

“You wouldn’t know how. Men can be dangerous, my dear, and I only want to ensure that you’ll marry someone decent. All men want the same thing from you – your body – so you should let me select trustworthy options who won’t try to take advantage of-“

“Does “all men” include you?” Mabel interrupted. She swallowed, staring Stanford down. “Is that why you raped me when I was a child?”

Perhaps, if she was punished like Mason and Will were, she would have known better than to bring up such a subject for fear of being hit. Perhaps if Ford Pines had never given her that book, she would have kept those dark memories buried far beneath her consciousness, and when they resurfaced, she would have pushed them back down. Perhaps when Stanford reached for her hand, she would have compliantly let him take it, ignoring the tenseness in her limbs and her faster heartbeat when he reached for her. Perhaps she would have felt like she was twelve again, in the basement, being told that everything was okay, this is normal, don’t tell your brother, he’ll be jealous of the special treatment, you’re an adult now, Mabel. Don’t cry. Relax. It’s easier if you relax. Make yourself into a doll, pliable beneath his hands, so he can manipulate your porcelain limbs and bend you into shape.

But her emotions had clawed their way to the surface of the ocean that was her mind, raw and uninhibited now, and she didn’t have the impulse control to keep them back. And she couldn’t ignore the urge to physically distance herself from Stanford any longer.

And she certainly wasn’t a confused twelve-year-old any longer.

She backed up from Stanford’s outstretched hand, nearly tripping on her own high heel in the process. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed, teeth bared like a cornered animal.

“Mabel,” said Stanford. Now, his voice was soft again, eyes filled with hurt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I would never do such a thing to you.”

“You would, and you did.”

“Was this a nightmare you had?” He tried to move toward her, but she went back again, inching toward her bedroom. “I didn’t rape you.”

_What the fuck?_

“I _remember_ it. You took me into the basement and you touched me. You made me think it was normal.” Earlier, the mere thought of what happened had her sobbing uncontrollably, but there were no tears now. She was red-faced, her fists were clenched, and her eyes burned with a fury she’d never known before. “I thought I was wrong for hating it, so I never said anything! I pretended like it didn’t happen for seven years!” While her voice became shriller, she was drawing closer to her bedroom door. “And now you’re telling me that it didn’t happen!”

Stanford didn’t stop following her, making a feeble attempt to comfort her. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“You. Touched. A. Child.” Finally at the doorway, she slowly reached for the handle.

His response made her sick to her stomach. “You’d already begun menstruating. You were, by biological standards, an adult. I only wanted to prepare you for your duties in adulthood. I’m sorry if I hurt you, my dear.”

That was it. She flung open the door and dove inside the sanctuary of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her and turning the lock. Her back was flush against the door as Stanford gently knocked. Completely overwhelmed, filled with raw hatred for Stanford and revulsion at what he’d done, and with no other outlet, she let out a furious scream, her words barely distinguishable. “ _Fuck off!”_

 “Open the door, Mabel,” Stanford said, shaking the door knob. “Let’s talk.”

She turned and threw her fist at the door, letting the wood be the substitute for Stanford’s head. She didn’t even register the pain in her hand that followed. “Leave me alone!” she shrieked.

When Stanford didn’t respond, she swallowed heavily, trying to steady her breath to listen to the other side of the door. There were faint footsteps – he was leaving. Finally. Once she was certain he was gone, she began to pace restlessly around her room, pulling her fingers through her hair, jerking strands out of her scalp, and leaving them between her fingers. Then, she turned and hit the wall as hard as she could, cracking it and leaving a small dent with her knuckles. Still unsatisfied, she stormed to her dresser, about to hit that, too, until her gaze fell upon her reflection in the vanity mirror.

It wasn’t her makeup-less face or messy hair that had her recoiling in disgust, as it normally would have. It was her outfit. Teal coat. White dress. The one Stanford picked out for her the other day.

_Gross gross gross gross gross. Get it off get it off get it off._

She ran to her closet, and she couldn’t get out of the dress soon enough. The irony of Stanford asking her to wear a white dress, a symbol of purity left a rotting, foul taste in her mouth. She exchanged it for modest slacks and a dark blue sweater, and when her gaze fell to the crumpled white dress on the floor, she stomped on it, twisting the fabric beneath the stiletto.

Did Stanford want her to wear dresses all the time so she’d be easier to take advantage of? Did he want her to start dressing like a grown woman when she was a young teenager so he wouldn’t feel bad about sexually abusing her? Did he even have the capacity to feel bad about it?

Standing in front of the full-length mirror, she paused, meeting the gaze of her own reflection.

A sudden and fierce kick shattered the mirror, sending spiderweb cracks running all across her reflection and glass snowflakes falling to the carpet.

* * *

 

The disturbance in the void was much greater this time. Awakened from his sleep, Will groggily rubbed his eye and peered around. There was a portal in the space in front of him, but he could see to the other side of it. He saw the Pines and Mason standing around a pentagram expectantly. So, with a slight sigh (he’d only just fallen asleep), he stepped through the portal, popping into existence in their dimension.

Immediately, there was a collective sigh of relief. “It worked,” Ford said with a smile at Mason. “I suppose the incantation is the same for both demons.”

“It puts out a call to the same dimension,” Will explained, and yawned, his gaze drifting over the setup in the kitchen. “You did the whole ritual? That seems like a nuisance…”

“It’s urgent,” Mason said. “Listen, somehow Stanford got Bill on his side, and used his powers to open a portal, and he took Mabel away!”

“Pines?” Will’s eye widened.

“…No, my sister.” Mason’s response dissipated Will’s fear, and the demon relaxed. “We got Bill, but he’s unconscious, and Stanford went back to the mansion, and we don’t know how else to get to her!”

Will seemed to be deep in thought for a moment before saying, “…That’s unfortunate.”

His indifference had Mason gritting his teeth. “We need your help to rescue her!”

“Does she want to be rescued? And either way, why would you want to?” His eye glittering with a hint of spite, he added, “It’s not like he forces her to be his personal servant and constantly beats her.”

“Will…” Mason put his hand on the demon’s shoulder. “It’s really horrible. She never told us, but Stanford _has_ abused her. When she was younger…” He broke eye contact to add, “It was sexual abuse. And I’m really worried he’ll try something like that again.”

To his shock, Will once again was completely aloof. “Okay.”

“…Okay?” Mason echoed, staring back up in disbelief. “He sexually abused her when she was a kid!”

“Okay,” Will repeated. “And?”

“Do you not think that’s horrible?”

“Stanford Gleeful frequently did the same – no, worse – to me,” Will replied calmly, pushing Mason’s hand off of his shoulder. “What I went through was likely far more painful. Stanford used me like his toy.” A glare was creeping onto his expression, his voice hardening. “You heard my screams at night. You saw me limping. And so did Mabel Gleeful – and I got no sympathy from her. That’s unfortunate that Stanford did that, but I’m not surprised, and I’m certainly not interested in helping her.”

When Will turned away, getting ready to leave, Ford stepped forward. “I’m sorry for what Stanford Gleeful did,” he said sincerely. “Will, you have every right to be upset with both him and Mabel. But we want to help her regardless. All we ask is that you open a portal for us.”

Will turned back, eyeing Ford over his shoulder. “No. I don’t want to help Mabel Gleeful."

“Don’t be stubborn.” Stan jumped into the conversation. “All you have to do is open a portal!”

Dipper added, “Would Mabel Pines agree with you, Will?” Now, the demon’s sharp blue eye was on him. “My sister wouldn’t want you to be spiteful. She’d say that we should help people, no matter what evil things they’ve done in the past.”

“Well said,” murmured Stan, nodding.

Will seemed to think so, too, as he pondered Dipper’s words before responding, “…She would, perhaps.”

Dipper bit his lip. “…So, just the portal? Please?”

Mason was holding his breath as Will went quiet again in contemplation. Then, he said, “I suppose I could. Give a few days, though.”

“A few days?” Mason’s jaw dropped, before Will went on.

“I’ll be joining you,” said the demon, a faint smile turning up the corners of his lips. “I want to give Stanford Gleeful a taste of what he did to me. But I need to recharge all of my energy and mentally prepare myself. I’ll see you in two days.”

Before the conversation could continue, Will opened a portal back to his own dimension and sealed it without another word.

“Two days,” Mason repeated softly, turning to Ford. “Is my sister going to be okay?”

“I hope so,” replied Ford. “She’s strong. She can handle herself. In the meantime, let’s worry about the other problem on our hands.” He pulled out his gun again and started for the living room.

Standing in the doorway, he let out a sigh and began putting away his weapon when he realized that Bill was no longer unconscious there – in fact, he wasn’t in the living room at all.

* * *

 

Bill strolled into Stanford Gleeful’s office, unbuttoning his shirt in the process to show off the dark red circle on his skin where he’d been shot with the strange invention of Ford’s. “Check it out,” he declared, hopping up on Stanford’s desk and pointing to the mark. “This nasty thing’s from The Original Sixer and his fancy gun. Watch out if he points that thing at you.”

When Stanford didn’t reply, or even acknowledge Bill’s presence, the demon frowned and peered at him, only then noticing the glass in his hand and the faraway look in his eyes. “…Drinking? Before noon?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Either your weekend’s starting early, or you’re in a bad mood.”

“What happened to her?” Stanford asked, swirling the drink, an expensive French Cognac, in his glass absentmindedly. “She thinks that I hurt her.”

“Aw, poor sad old man,” Bill said with no affect in his tone. “I bet you totally did nothing wrong.”

“I just want what’s best for this family,” Stanford murmured. “I know that doesn’t align with her personal life plan, but it’s what must be done. And earlier, I was helping her. I tried to prepare her.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but, that sucks for you. Have you ever considered doing… this?” Instead of offering a suggestion, Bill opened his shirt further to flaunt his chest with a flirtatious grin. “Get it? Like, doing me? Like getting dirty? I believe it was somewhere in our Terms of Service that we’d do the nasty in exchange for my awesome trans-dimensional powers.”

Stanford gloomily downed the rest of his glass and set it down to pour himself another. “I’m not in the mood, Bill.”

Bill huffed and began buttoning his shirt again. “Man, are Stanfords in every universe asexual? What does an agent of chaos and destruction have to do to get some dick around here?”

Absorbed in his own thoughts, Stanford began to murmur them aloud, standing and turning to the window and staring out into the forest below. “She may never come around. I fear that her brother’s rebellious ideas have tainted her mind. I’m not sure mere words can persuade her.”

While Bill was getting ready to leave the room, annoyed at being ignored, Stanford kept talking to himself. “Mabel won’t be my heir, but she can still produce one. She won’t have to raise the child if she doesn’t want to, of course. I’m fully capable of raising it myself.” He turned to get Bill’s opinion. “That’s a fair compromise. She’ll provide a child, and then she can leave. She can rejoin her brother, or her parents, or whoever she likes, while I take care of the newest addition to the Gleeful family. What do you think?”

But Bill was already leaving the room, hunting for some form of amusement in lieu of Stanford’s attention.

Stanford returned to the seat at his desk, giving himself a few more minutes to think it over. That also eliminated the issue of an arranged marriage, which Mabel vehemently opposed. Clearly, this was the optimal solution. He finished his drink before pulling out a notebook from his desk drawer and a fountain pen to scrawl in black ink the details of his idea, so it could be later transcribed in their glorious family history.

* * *

 

Sitting in the basement waiting for Ford to finish crafting something, Stan could feel the anxious presence of Dipper and Mason accumulating in the air. “It’s gonna be fine, boys,” he said, glancing over at them. “We’ll get her back.”

“I’m scared of how Stanford’s going to respond,” Mason said, combing his fingers through his hair nervously. “When he showed up at the front door the other day, I was so- I just froze. He hadn’t even done anything, and I was so scared…”

“He’s incredibly intimidating,” Ford agreed softly, holding up a weapon to the light to examine it before going over to Mason and placing it in the boy’s hand, who looked at it curiously. “Seeing him was like looking in a mirror… If my reflection carried himself like a noble and had a stare that could freeze you solid.”

“I didn’t realize how scary he was until he threatened me, I guess. So, what’s this?” Mason examined the gun.

Ford proudly explained, “When you pull the trigger, it releases a powerful burst of air that can push someone several feet back. It’s mostly for self-defense in case you find yourself cornered by someone. It’s perfectly harmless to use on humans… though I accidentally killed a fruit fly with it.” He added, “I didn’t want to give you a real gun if you don’t have experience handling them. I also don’t want to murder anyone.”

Mason ran his fingers over the grooves in the weapon. “…I do.”

“…I know.” Ford’s proud smile slowly fell. “I would too, if there was no risk of an interdimensional bounty being put on our heads for trans-dimensional murder. That’s a real thing, you know. Anyway, the point is to get Mabel away from Stanford, not harm anyone.”

“I don’t care about bounties. After what he did to Mabel… to all of us… I’d kill him in a heartbeat.” Mason held up the gun, practicing aiming, his finger off of the trigger. “I wouldn’t even consider it murder – it’s more like putting down a rabid dog to stop him from hurting anyone else.” His eyes narrowed, imagining Stanford Gleeful on the other end of the gun’s barrel.

“ _Jesus_ , that’s dark,” Stan said. “Been reading Stephen King lately?”

“Edgar Allen Poe,” Mason corrected.

Dipper was given what appeared to be a hunting knife with runes carved into the wooden handle. When he curiously looked at Ford, the man explained, “There’s unicorn hair embedded in that, so it can’t be destroyed with demonic magic. Again, this is for self-defense.” Dipper nodded in understanding, slipping the knife into its sheath.

“We should make a plan, right?” Stan asked. “I don’t want to charge in there blindly.”

“A plan would be good if we knew what we were getting into. But only Dipper and Mason are familiar with the mansion’s layout, we don’t know where Mabel will be, and we don’t know if Stanford’s going to be prepared to meet us,” said Ford. “Even if we make a plan, it could easily fall apart, depending on the circumstances. Let’s focus only on the goal – rescue Mabel.”

“And get us back to our parents?” Mason added softly.

“If possible,” Ford agreed. “Otherwise, we’ll just try to get you somewhere safe.”

Mason stared at the weapon in his hands for a moment. “…Thanks,” he said quietly. “All of you. For everything.” With all eyes in the room on him, he said, “You didn’t have to shelter me. I was really rude to you. And you don’t have to risk your safety to help my sister, but you’re doing it anyway. I… really appreciate that. So, um…” He was fidgeting, uncomfortable with the awkwardness. “Uh… thanks. Really.”

Stan smiled warmly, then patted Mason on the back. “We wouldn’t turn down anyone who needs help, kid. We’ve got your back until the end.”

“Even though I insulted you guys and made fun of your house, and everything else…” Mason laughed softly. “That was so rude of me. I’m actually sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, Mason,” said Ford, nodding. “You didn’t know better. But now you do.”

“…I’m sorry for hurting Will, too,” Mason added. “Next time I see him, I’ll tell him. I shouldn’t have ever listened to Stanford. I shouldn’t have hurt him.”

The Pines family exchanged hopeful smiles. Finally, Mason was seeing the light. He was still far from perfect, but he was a work in progress. “I think Will would appreciate that,” said Dipper cheerfully. “Maybe you can convince your sister to apologize, too.”

“We’ll see,” Mason replied, a hint of playfulness in his voice. “That might take a while.”

“A while’s better than never,” Dipper said, and Mason nodded.

Finally, things were looking up again.

* * *

 

Mabel refused to leave the sanctuary of her room for the entire day. She’d burnt off negative energy by taking it out on her belongings, throwing an old doll across the room so it knocked over the photo of her, Mason, and Stanford, which subsequently fell to the ground, the picture frame cracking. She hit her bedpost, screamed into a pillow, tore out strands of her hair, and finally collapsed from exhaustion on her bed, curling up with tears brimming in her eyes.

Why didn’t she see it before? Why did she think that what he did was okay? Stanford was so horrible. And now she was trapped in the house with him, trapped in her bedroom. She wouldn’t dare venture out for fear of encountering Stanford. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to resist punching or kicking him, and that would only get her in huge trouble.

But it was evening now, and Stanford hadn’t disturbed her yet. Maybe he’d left the house. She got up, wiped her eyes with her scraped hands, and pulled open the door as quietly as possible to peer down the long hallway. The grand doors to Stanford’s office were closed, indicating that he was inside, so she decided that this was her chance. She slipped back into her room, finding her purse and wallet, which thankfully held twenty dollars and her driver’s license, then made her way back out. Before going downstairs, she took off her heels, carrying them to minimize noise.

Ordinarily, she didn’t drive herself anywhere, since Will used to be her chauffeur, but she was fully capable. She found the keys to one of their cars hanging on a hook beside the front door.

While putting on her shoes again, she heard a soft creak on the stairs. Terrified, she jerked her head up to see Stanford on the top step, staring down at her. “Mabel,” he said, making his way down. She turned and fumbled with the locks on the door. “Mabel, where are you going?”

“I’m leaving,” she said quickly, and tried the handle, only to find that it was still locked. Living in the most affluent house in the town required security, so there were at least four locks on every door leading outside. She tried flipping the locks to the other side, but that didn’t work, either.

“Mabel,” he called again, at the bottom of the stairs now. “You can’t leave again. I need you here…”

By the time she figured out which locks she needed to turn, Stanford was on her. She cried out fearfully and tried to dart away, but he grabbed her wrist, locking it in his hand and squeezing tightly, so much that it hurt. “Let go of me! I don’t want to live with you anymore!”

“You have to,” Stanford insisted, and she could smell the harsh scent of alcohol on his breath. “You’re the future of the family, Mabel… You’re so perfect.”

“You’re drunk, let go! You’re hurting me!”

Stanford loosened his grip but didn’t release her. “You’re the one, Mabel. You have to be the one. There’s no one more perfect…”

“What are you talking about!” Mabel shouted, dropping her purse to fight back with her other hand. She threw a poorly aimed punch at his head, which he countered by grabbing her other wrist. Realizing he had her completely trapped, her eyes widened. “Let me go!”

“You’re going to have a child for me, Mabel. No, not for me… for the family. You’ll help the family.” His words were slightly slurred, and he had a faraway look in his eyes. “All you have to do is have my child. A perfect one like yourself. Then you can go. He’ll be the heir and my new apprentice… I’ll raise him. You won’t have to do anything…”

Her breathing was becoming shallower as Stanford’s true intentions became clear. “You’re sick,” she hissed, still trying to jerk her arms away from his hold. “You’re disgusting. I hate you.”

“Please, my dear… You can leave when it’s over… I won’t make you stay,” he implored her, and tried to push her back against the door. This had her thrashing harder as she was desperate to escape. “Do this one thing for me, Mabel.” He then suddenly dropped her wrists and pulled her into a tight embrace. It might have been considered loving if his intentions weren’t so twisted.

She couldn’t see any other way out, so she thrust her knee between his legs. He gasped sharply, released her, and finally gave her the opportunity to run away. With her purse on the ground, she knew she wouldn’t have time to pick it up and get outside to the car in time, so she sprinted upstairs, back to her bedroom, and slammed the door behind her, locking it again.

Once the adrenaline wore off, she was crying again and visibly trembling as the events that just transpired sunk in. Mason was right all along about their fucked-up family.

* * *

 

As promised, Will appeared the next day before the Pines family, who were finishing their preparations for the rescue mission. “Ready?” the demon asked brightly, stepping through the portal from his other dimension.

“Definitely,” said Mason, the first to respond. He had borrowed one of Dipper’s jackets and kept the gun Ford had given him in one of its inner pockets. Dipper had his knife strapped to his belt, and Stan was sporting brass knuckles. As Will created the portal that would lead to the Gleeful mansion, Ford insisted on going through first. Stan followed, and Dipper was close behind him. Mason, however, hesitated, glancing at Will. “…I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Sorry?” His interest piqued, Will blinked curiously.

“Yeah.” Mason rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “For, you know. Hurting you.”

“I’m sure.” Will gestured for him to go through the portal.

Mason stood still. “I’m serious. I feel really bad about it. I feel… How to describe it…? I feel ill when I think about what I did to you, and how I thought it was justified. What is that?”

“Guilt?” Will guessed.

The boy nodded sheepishly. “That’s it. I regret it all so much, Will. I’m sorry.”

Will smiled warmly. At last, a sincere apology from Mason Gleeful. He never knew it was possible.

He couldn’t blame the boy for the actions he’d been taught to perform, as long as he understood their consequences.

“Thank you, Mason. I forgive you. And I’m serious, too.”

It appeared that a massive weight had been lifted from Mason’s shoulders. He grinned at Will, visibly relaxing. He opened his mouth, looking like he was about to say something else, then closed it and simply walked through the portal. The demon followed and swore that he saw Mason blushing.

* * *

 

The morning after the incident that occurred while he was drunk, Stanford ignored his pounding headache to bring a plate of toast and fruit to Mabel’s bedroom door. Before going to bed, he told Bill to enchant the locks on the doors with magic to prevent Mabel from trying to escape again, and now that he was sober, he had to admit that doing so wasn’t a bad idea. However, it meant that Mabel likely felt restricted.

He knocked lightly. “Mabel? I’m sorry for whatever I did last night. I don’t remember it well, but I know you tried to run away. Let’s talk about it, please.” He tried the door, but she still had it locked from the inside. Clearly, Mabel had no interest in leaving her room.

“Go away.”

“I brought you breakfast. And I lifted the magic from the doors.”

“Great,” came her sarcastic reply, her voice sounding weary.

“Mabel,” he sighed, knocking again. “Unlock the door. I just want to talk.”

She smacked the door with her hand in response, startling him. “And what if I don’t?”

“Then you won’t get to eat breakfast.”

Silence followed. Then, the lock clicked, and Mabel slowly opened the door. She looked frightfully tired with the dark circles under her eyes enhanced by stress and her hair sticking out in every direction. She managed to find the energy to put on eyeliner and mascara, as well as clean clothes (a long mint-colored dress with a cinched waist) but otherwise appeared too tired to do anything else. With her hand still on the door, ready to slam it shut at any sign of danger, she glared up at Stanford before her eyes drifted to the plate in his hands. She hadn’t eaten anything in well over a day. Stanford handed it to her, and she took it warily, retreating to her vanity chair.

Stanford followed her into the room, keeping his distance. “I’m sorry for last night. I don’t know what I was thinking, having that much to drink. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“You grabbed my wrists and shoved me against the wall,” said Mabel coldly between bites of toast. “That hurt.”

Stanford looked pained. “I’m sorry.”

“Because you care about me _so_ much,” she muttered. “Can I go back to my parent’s house now?”

He let out a heavy sigh and sat down on the edge of her bed, lacing his fingers together in his lap. “I’m afraid not. Not yet.”

“…Leave my room.”

Stanford looked up, frowning.

“Leave,” she repeated, pointing to the door. “I’m done talking.”

“Mabel…” Stanford protested, but stood up while talking. “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you…”

She narrowed her eyes. “You can leave.”

Stanford hesitated, but didn’t argue, nor did he go against her wishes. He left the room, closed the door, and with Bill’s magical charm, sealed the lock to stop her from slipping out when he wasn’t around. Then, he returned to his office, finding that Bill had suddenly appeared on his desk, swinging his legs idly and grinning at Stanford.

“How’d it go?” Bill inquired.

“She won’t talk to me,” Stanford said, rubbing his temples. “She’s incredibly stubborn. I’m hesitant to push her into this too quickly, to reduce her discomfort.”

“You wanna know what you _can_ push into quickly?”

Stanford just shook his head. “I’m worried for the future of this family…”

His flirting once again ignored, Bill hopped off the desk. “Yeah, I can tell,” he said with a bit of a sneer. If he remembered correctly, his deal with Stanford was demonic magic in exchange for what Ford Pines wouldn’t give him. But Stanford wasn’t even paying attention to him. He strolled out of the office, letting the old man lament for his niece’s lack of interest in incest, while he lifted the magical charms from the doors, restoring his own magical energy.

If Stanford wouldn’t pay attention to him, then he wouldn’t get to keep his magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end omg


	23. Cure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end. Not yet.

Stan, Ford, Dipper, Mason, and Will were silent as they stepped into the foyer of the Gleeful mansion. Mason immediately looked to the stairs, figuring that Stanford was in his office or bedroom. Mabel’s whereabouts, however, were left to conjecture. She could be in her own room, or with Stanford, or, if Stanford was truly twisted, he could have imprisoned her in the basement laboratory (where Will was sometimes sent as punishment). He gestured to the stairs, then started walking up, letting the others follow. Having never been in the mansion, Ford and Stan looked tenser than the others.

At the top of the stairs, Mason looked to the office doors at the end of the hall, which was closed, then pointed to it. “Stanford’s in there,” he whispered. “Who wants to go look for Mabel?”

“I will,” Ford volunteered. “And I’ll take Dipper.”

“Her bedroom door is down there,” Mason said, pointing. “And downstairs, there’s our planning room, a couple of recreation rooms, and the basement entrance.”

“Will you be able to manage Stanford?” Dipper whispered back, concern furrowing his brows.

Mason nodded, and with his hand on the gun in his pocket, started down the hall, Will and Stan close behind. Ford and Dipper crept toward Mabel’s bedroom, both understanding that splitting up to search could be potentially dangerous.

Growing up with Stanford and his strict rules, Mason was well-practiced in keeping his footsteps as silent as possible. Setting the ball of his foot down first, then his heel, and sticking to the side of the hallway where the floor was less depressed, he crept up to the office doors, pausing when he stood directly in front of them. His heart was going crazy thanks to anxiety, but he knew that he had a job to do. He nodded to Stan, who responded with one of his own, and pushed open the grand door.

Stanford was seated at his desk, his head resting in one hand. At the sight of Mason, he arched one eyebrow and glared slightly, obviously surprised to see him, but determined to put on a stern face. Then, he caught sight of Stan and Will. He practically leapt to his feet, walking around to the front of his desk. His gaze now fixed on Will, he said, “There you are, demon.”

“Stanford,” said Mason. He cleared his throat. “Will’s not under your control anymore. I freed him.”

The look that Stanford gave him was full of such malice that Mason had to take a step back, his finger moving to the trigger of his still-concealed weapon. “I figured,” he growled. “But I didn’t think that _you_ freed him.”

“Don’t blame the boy,” said Stan sharply, slipping his brass knuckles on, ready to jump to Mason’s defense. “He did the right thing.”

“Will is mine,” snarled Stanford. “He’s supposed to serve me for the rest of my life as payment for pushing me into the portal! And you, Stanley Pines, somehow a sorrier version of my brother, believe you can make judgments about my decisions?” He raised his hand, channeling Bill’s magic. With a flick of his wrist, Stan was thrust backwards with a wave of force. Mason gasped, and pulled out his weapon, but Stanford payed it no mind. He looked at Will again, narrowing his sharp blue eyes. “Will, come here.”

Mason looked to Will, too, surprised to see the demon standing still, not reacting to Stanford. Wasn’t the demon ready to get revenge? “Will,” he called out, hoping to rouse him. “Don’t listen to him. This is your chance!” But Will didn’t respond to Mason either. As though in a trance, he stared with empty eyes at his former master. Then, to his horror, Will began to take slow steps toward Stanford, looking much like a dazed sleepwalker. Stanford smiled.

Will’s inaction was causing Mason to panic again as he wondered if the situation was really under their control. He raised the gun Ford gave him and aimed at Stanford, but his great-uncle didn’t even look at him.

Then, a sudden forceful burst radiated from Will, knocking Mason down and lifting the weapon from his hands. It landed several feet from him, and before he reached for it, he looked up to see a blue forcefield encasing himself and Stanford. Blue, both Will’s and the Gleefuls’ favored color. He continued slowly toward Stanford as though nothing had happened.

What was Will _thinking?_

* * *

 

“Mabel?” Dipper whispered, rapping on the door. After a moment, the lock clicked, and Mabel Gleeful poked her head out. The girl looked wary but let out a relieved sigh and opened the door further, beckoning for Ford and Dipper to come inside.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, minding the volume of her voice as she glanced between the newcomers. She seemed standoffish with her arms crossed, but Dipper could see the warm glow in her eyes. She was probably delighted to see them again.

Ford stepped forward, holding out his hand. “We’re rescuing you,” he replied. When she didn’t take his hand, he awkwardly withdrew it and cleared his throat. “We couldn’t let Stanford Gleeful take you.”

“…Thanks,” she murmured.

“Your brother, Will, and Stan are dealing with your great-uncle,” explained Dipper, and Mabel then noticed the knife in his hand. “We’re going to help them, and then we’ll-“

“Give me that.”

“What?”

“The knife.” She pointed. “Give it to me.”

Dipper was hesitant to give up his only form of self-defense, but it was hard to disobey a direct command from someone who looked just like his sister. He handed it to her, and she immediately ran her finger across the blade, examining its sharpness. She then tossed it into the air with a spin on it and caught it neatly in her other hand. Without another word, she stepped out of her room, taking long but quiet strides down the long hallway toward Stanford’s office.

She could see the blue forcefield, but couldn’t quite make out the situation, and continued forward, stopping three-quarters of the way between the office and her room.

* * *

 

Mason stood and knocked his hand against the seemingly impenetrable forcefield to no avail. Will was standing in front of Stanford, staring blankly up at him. With a triumphant smirk, Stanford gently put his hand in Will’s hair, combing his six fingers through the blue strands. “Good,” he praised. “You’re still my loyal servant, aren’t you, Will?”

“Of course, Master Stanford,” Will murmured, leaning into Stanford’s hand.

“Will!” Mason shouted, and struck the forcefield again, bruising his hand in the process. “What are you doing!”

“Get away from him!” Stan shouted, leaning on a piece of furniture to stand, attempting to punch through the forcefield with his brass knuckles. His attempt failed too.

Stanford gently nudged Will to the side. “Wait over there, Will, so I can deal with these two,” he commanded. “Then, we’ll re-negotiate our deal.” He turned to Mason. “You-“

Practice makes perfect, or so the saying goes. And Mabel Gleeful had been practicing.

The knife shot through the air like a bullet, the unicorn hair allowing it to pierce the demonic blue bubble, striking Stanford squarely in the chest. The blade sank through his jacket, through his powder-blue button-down shirt, and through his flesh. As he took a staggering step back, hand slowly reaching up to the protruding weapon, he first looked to Mason, as if thinking he had a hand in the blow. Then, his eyes traveled to Stan, who looked just as shocked as he was. Finally, his horrified gaze rested on his niece, who was squarely facing him from the hallway, her shoulders tense and her fists clenched.

Will, aptly stunned by the sudden knife to Stanford’s chest, allowed the forcefield to drop while he fell to his knees. No words escaped him, but his single eye was fixed on Stanford.

Mabel entered the office, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her great-uncle. She ignored her brother’s stare, walking up to Stanford. Her expression was neutral until she reached for the knife and yanked it out, suddenly reflecting years of pent-up anger and hatred for the man.

She hadn’t spent the past several years in the basement learning about anatomy from dissecting Will’s body for her to _not_ know exactly where to strike to prolong Stanford’s death. Her blow powerful but precise, she jammed the blade near the previous wound. Puncturing just one lung could kill him, but not too quickly. Not before he comprehended the gravity of Mabel’s anger, the agony that he’d die in, the realization that he’d brought this upon himself through years of manipulation and abuse of Mabel and her brother.

Stanford opened his mouth to speak to her. No sound came out.

_Good,_ she thought. _You don’t deserve the dignity of last words_.

Contempt shining in her eyes, her lip curled up in a snarl, she yanked out the knife and once again, stabbed him, this time in the shoulder. When she pulled it out this time, Stanford collapsed against his desk, now desperately pushing his hand against his chest wounds in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding.

But Mabel wasn’t done. She raised her foot and kicked Stanford in the face as hard as she could. She might have broken his jaw – she heard something crack – but who cared what injuries he sustained? He was going to die here, anyway. Barely hesitating, she dropped to her knees beside him and began repeatedly stabbing him, unleashing her fury on him with the knife. She didn’t mind the blood splatters on her hands and clothes, nor the irate tears rolling down her cheeks. In fact, she forgot that she was surrounded by others – Mason, Stan, Will, and the two who just entered the room, Ford and Dipper.

Nothing mattered more to her in that moment than forcing Stanford to confront horrific pain before he died slowly with no time to repent for his sins. There would be no heaven for this man. No peace for those who lie to and manipulate their family, who teach prejudice to complacent children, who tell little girls that they’re beautiful and perfect and turn around and take away their agency under the guise of a weak excuse. Neither Mabel nor Mason considered themselves religious, but she knew for a fact that there was a special place in hell for people like Stanford Gleeful.

“Mabel.”

Her brother’s weak voice startled her, and she whipped her head around, trembling hands clutching the knife’s hilt.

Mason was staring at her, fearfully? “Mabel,” he repeated, reaching out his hand cautiously to her. “It’s okay… Um… He’s dead.”

Mabel slowly turned back to look at Stanford. Mason was right. The light was gone from Stanford’s eyes, and blood trickled from his nose and mouth. He sat in a puddle of blood, six-fingered hands limp, head lolled to the side as he sat slumped against his desk. When did that happen?

She dropped the knife and slowly stood, staring down at the carnage in awe. Puncture wounds littered Stanford’s body, visible in his chest, abdomen, arms, and neck. Blood seeped into his shirt, staining the fabric dark red. It was a dreadful sight. And she’d done this.

She’d killed him.

She tried to wipe tears from her eyes, but only smeared blood on her cheeks in the process. Then, Mason wrapped his arms around her. She returned the hug without pause, squeezing her brother. “He’s dead,” she whispered, pushing her face into his shoulder. “He’s finally dead.”

“Finally,” agreed Mason wearily. “We’re free of him.”

Curious, Mason looked to Will to gauge the demon’s response. He looked shaken, and rightly so. Watching Mabel repeatedly stab Stanford’s corpse was a horrific sight. Across the room, it was difficult to tell, but he thought he caught a glimpse of something black oozing out from beneath Will’s eyepatch.

Stan pulled himself into the nearby chair. “Oy,” he muttered to himself. Dipper hurried over to comfort him. “That’s going to give me nightmares for years to come.”

Ford appeared unperturbed on the outside. He surveyed the room for a moment, judging that Mason and Mabel could comfort each other, and Stan would be fine. He approached Stanford Gleeful’s corpse and glanced it over. Briefly, he wondered if his own death would be this gruesome and unceremonious, but forced himself to dismiss the grim thought, and went to the other side of the desk, opening drawers and pulling out papers and books.

“What are you doing?” Dipper asked, looking up.

“Looking for a will,” Ford explained. When his search in the desk came up fruitless, he went to the bookshelf, leafing through the individual books, scanning them. “We should see who gets the property.”

Will’s voice was quiet but surprised everyone. No one was expecting him to talk. “There’s no will,” he murmured.

“…None?” Ford echoed.

“He wanted to wait until he was sure Mabel was the heiress…”

The Gleeful twins, separated from their hug, noticed Ford’s dismayed expression. “It’s okay,” Mason said. “That just means the property and money goes to…” He trailed off, exchanging a glance with his sister. “…. his brother, Stanley.”

Mabel nodded. “Yeah… He’s still alive, right? I haven’t heard from him in a really long time.”

Ford returned to the desk, opening up a private journal and pulling out a slip of paper from under the front cover. “This has a couple of phone numbers labeled ‘Stanley,’” he said. “It looks like Stanford Gleeful was keeping track of multiple phone numbers that he used…”

Mason walked over and took the paper. “Well… we could try some of these. But in a different room.” He crinkled his nose, just now realizing that the scent of Stanford’s blood-soaked body was lingering. “Hey, Will, do you want to come with us?”

Will blinked slowly. “…No, thank you. I’ll stay here.”

“…Alright.”

The group went to Mason’s bedroom, where the boy used his cellphone to call the first number on the list. As it was ringing, he quickly passed the phone to his sister, who gave him a dirty look. “I don’t want to-“

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end startled her. “…Hello?”

“Who is this?”

It had been years, but she still recognized the gravely voice. She pressed the speaker button to let Mason hear it, too. “Um,” said Mabel. “This is… Mabel Gleeful. And Mason Gleeful.”

Silence on the other end made them both wonder if he’d hung up. But he spoke. “You’re joking, right?”

“We’re not,” said Mason quickly. “It’s us.”

“Look,” said Stanley Gleeful. “If this is my brother’s idea of a prank…”

“He’s dead,” said Mabel bluntly. “Stanford’s dead.”

Stanley paused for a long time again. “Sorry to hear that,” he said flatly.

“Great-Uncle Stanley,” Mason said. “We know you didn’t like him. We don’t like him, either. It took us a while to understand, because we were so young, but we get it now. He was a horrible person. And…” Mason was never good at apologies. “…We’re sorry he kicked you out. Sorry we never tried to call you before now.”

“Is he really dead?” Life was returning to Stanley’s voice. “You’re sure this isn’t a prank?”

“We’re _pretty sure,”_ Mabel replied. “And there’s no will, so that means you get his things, I guess. Um, you should probably come to the house. It belongs to you again.”

Stan and Ford exchanged warm looks. Seeing these two try to get in touch with their family was comforting to them. It meant that the twins would be safe again, and their job was nearly done.

“Well,” said Stanley Gleeful. “Sorry to hear that you two didn’t inherit it. I’ll come up tomorrow. Will you be there?”

“We will,” Mason replied, now smiling at the prospect of seeing Stanley again. “Um, we’ll need to clean up Stanford’s office a bit when you get here, but yeah. Looking forward to seeing you.”

“You too, kiddo,” said Stanley. “See you tomorrow. Take care.”

After hanging up, both twins breathed a sight of relief at how well that went. Then, Mabel crossed her arms. “’Clean up his office a bit?’” she repeated. “His dead body is in there. We’ll have to burn that section of the house, so we don’t get tried for murder.”

“Stanley can help us burn it,” Mason replied.

Ford cleared his throat. “What’s the plan, kids? Are we leaving you here now? Or do you want to spend the night in our dimension again?”

Mason shrugged. “Interdimensional travel is a lot of effort on the demons’ part. I think we should stay here.”

“Are you sure you want to be alone in the house with Will?” Stan asked, raising one eyebrow. “He’s been acting weird. You saw how upset he was that Stanford Gleeful died. If that demon’s mad at you…”

“I’ll go check on him,” Dipper offered, and left the room.

“We’ll be fine, I’m sure,” Mabel said.

They awaited Dipper’s return quietly, and when the boy came back, they all looked at him.

Dipper appeared confused. “He’s gone,” he said softly. “He’s not in the room anymore.”

* * *

 

They left the door to the office closed, shutting in Stanford Gleeful’s corpse so they wouldn’t have to see or smell the body. They’d take care of it when Stanley arrived.

The Pines were ready to return to their own dimension, but without Will’s powers, they had no way of leaving. Searching the house for the blue-haired demon proved fruitless, but Ford encountered a surprise visitor in the kitchen.

He narrowed his eyes at the blonde demon, who had his hand in a box of cereal. “Bill,” he greeted coolly, trying to mask his frustration. “What are you doing here?”

“Eating cereal.” Bill grinned and held up the box. “Want some?”

Ford’s hand was in his coat pocket, reaching for his gun. “You betrayed us,” he said accusingly. “You let Stanford Gleeful take away Mabel.”

“To be fair, I was never allied with you in the first place.” He took back the cereal, still casually eating it. “I side with whoever’s got the best deal for me, and right now, that’s Reverse Ford.”

“You know that he’s dead, right?”

Bill’s eye widened, but only slightly. “Really? Huh. I was wondering why I felt energized all of a sudden. Guess I got my magic returned when he kicked the bucket. Did he have a heart attack or something?”

Ford was tempted to pull out his weapon, but his rational side thought better of it. He needed Bill to make the portal to take him and his family home. “Mabel killed him. And Will disappeared. We can’t find him, and we need to go home.”

“Oh, I see. You want me to lend you my magic.” Bill set down the cereal to cross his arms and pout dramatically at Ford. “After you ignored me and made me turn to Sixer Two for attention.”

“All we need is a portal,” Ford sighed. “I’m not looking for a long-term deal. Just one portal. Then, we’ll leave you alone, and you leave us alone.”

Bill thought on that, taking an awfully long time to contemplate the costs and benefits to himself. Then, he stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

“I’m not shaking your hand.”

“Then I’m not sending you home,” said Bill stubbornly. “Listen, Fordsy. It’s a win-win. I send you home, and we stay out of each other’s beeswax for the rest of time. Or until you die. Sorta the same thing.”

Ford sighed heavily, rubbed his temples, then took Bill’s hand. “…Deal.”

* * *

 

Mason and Mabel Gleeful hadn’t seen or heard from Stanley since they were twelve, when he was forced out of the house by his brother. They watched through the window as Stanley drove an old, noisy car into the driveway, parked, and stepped out.

He gazed up at the mansion that he hadn’t seen in seven long years. This was the place where he’d foolishly wasted thirty years of his life bringing back his ungrateful and selfish brother. It was like home to him, but a home that left a sour taste in his mouth, as his memories were stained by the presence of Stanford. He dragged his suitcase from the car up to the front door and knocked.

It was immediately opened by the twins, who offered him awkward smiles. They stared at each other for a moment, before Stanley spoke. “…You got taller.”

“Puberty does that,” replied Mason, looking Stanley over. He was nearly the same as he remembered, still wearing an ill-fitting Hawaiian shirt, and wearing glasses a bit too big for his face. His hair was gray, a bit messy and uncombed, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in several days.

But he was a welcome sight for the Gleeful twins. Accustomed now to the disheveled look thanks to their experience with the Pines family,

“You look all grown up,” Stanley commented, and grinned. “It really has been a long time, huh?”

“A while,” Mabel agreed softly.

Mason coughed. “I, uh, think we owe you a proper apology. We thought for a while that you were a bad person…”

“Stanford taught us that,” Mabel added. “He said things like, you were bad for the family.”

“Sounds like him,” Stanley grumbled.

“We don’t think that anymore,” Mason said quickly. “We know better now.”

“I’m glad.” Stanley let out a quiet sigh. “That man’s obsessions were ridiculous. But I felt like I was crazy for bein’ the only one who noticed them.”

Mason smiled. “You’re definitely not the only one anymore.”

Stanley brought his suitcase inside and closed the front door. “So, how did my brother pass away?”

The twins exchanged anxious glances. “…Um, it was a little…” began Mabel, searching for the right words.

“…Unorthodox,” Mason finished for her. “Don’t freak out, please. You’ll understand when we tell you the whole story of what happened while you were gone.”

Stanley smiled. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

* * *

 

Mabel Pines was delighted to hear the news. “I’m so glad they’re going to be okay!” she chirped. She and Dipper were talking on the phone the evening that Dipper returned home. “I was worried about them! I bet the grunkles are really happy to have their house un-cluttered with people!”

“For sure,” Dipper replied, reclining on his bed.

“How’s Will doing?”

“Oh.” Dipper frowned. “I don’t actually know. He was doing a really weird thing. He acted like he was still under Stanford’s control, and after Stanford died, he disappeared. We have no idea where he went.”

“But he was freed from servitude?” Mabel asked, confused. “Right? Mason broke the deal.”

“Right. That’s why it was weird.”

“I hope he’s okay!” Mabel said, now concerned. “I wish I could come check on him!”

Dipper hummed. “I think we could summon him, but… I’ll wait for him to come back on his own. I think he needs some time to himself to get over the whole ordeal.”

Mabel didn’t seem perfectly satisfied with that but agreed nonetheless. “That’s probably for the best, yeah. Call me if he shows up, okay, bro-bro?”

“I promise I will.”

She laughed. “Is that a pun? You _Will?_ ”

“No, I _Dipper,_ ” he joked. Mabel laughed again.

“See you at the end of summer,” she said. “Mabel, out.”


	24. Expire

Purgatory was a cold and empty plane. For as long as evil had existed in the world, there was a plane reserved for the souls of those who commit atrocities. Unlike other dimensions, which contained at least some forms of light, color, and objects, this blank pocket in the universe held only individual souls of those who were both sentient and twisted. Before those souls withered, decayed, and finally disappeared to make room for more, they would each confront their transgressions for what felt like an eternity with no company. Unless, of course, an outside visitor contacted them.

Will had been looking forward to Stanford’s death for years. He expected that when his demise finally came, he would feel ecstatic. But, after witnessing the brutal event that finally ended his cruel reign over him and the twins, he felt as though his heart was hollowed out.

The demon was fully capable of logical thought. He knew that this was a bad idea. He knew that no one in their right mind would do this. No one should feel the way he did about Stanford’s death. But what else was there to do about such complex feelings?

After being freed from the deal by Mason, he was delighted, but came to realize the drawback. Being free meant a sudden loss of structure. And although the structure was strictly hierarchical, cruel, and barely tolerable, suddenly switching to a free life made him extremely uncomfortable with his own existence. He attempted to fill that void. He briefly fell in love with Mabel, who gave him nurturance and comfort. He cooked and cleaned for the Pines when he could. But even that wasn’t enough.

He liked Mason Gleeful, too. He was a decent person - or was at least learning how to become one. Unfortunately, while Mason was attractive and kind, he knew his own lifespan would make Mason insecure of his shortened one, and that would bring nothing but turmoil to the boy’s future.

So, when Stanford summoned him to his side, how could he refuse? There it was: Comfort. Structure. Exactly what he needed to fill that dark void within him.

But Stanford provided more than authority and stability. When Stanford hurt him, he knew what strings to pull to keep Will in his place. It wasn’t all horrible. When Stanford beat him, he praised him _. Your skin looks more beautiful when it’s brui_ sed. Even when Stanford was young, and they thought they were in love, Stanford conducted tiring experiments on him, but praised him to ensure that Will continued them. You’re doing so well. Just one more.

Will would clarify that he understood the unhealthiness of the situations that Stanford put him in. But despite knowing that he was being manipulated, formed by Stanford’s hands, twisted into doing what he wanted, he couldn’t ignore the way that his heart beat faster with Stanford’s praise, or his occasional gentleness. He lived for those little moments. Losing them was more agonizing than he thought it might be.

Of course, maybe Will’s desires were a little twisted, too. Maybe that’s why he never resisted Mabel Gleeful’s sexual advances, even though he knew that they always ended in pain and humiliation for him. Some part of him, trapped in a cage in his chest, begging to be released, was a masochist who craved Stanford’s abuse, and that’s why he obeyed the man even when he was free from the deal. Perhaps he wasn’t living for the praise, but for the abuse itself. And when Stanford summoned him, he was craving punishment for his disobedience, so he eagerly went to his master’s side like a trained dog.

To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he wanted or needed. But he knew that right now, he wanted to find Stanford.

It wasn’t a challenging task. In purgatory, there were no distractors and nothing that Stanford could be hiding behind. When he noticed Stanford’s soul, he approached it, moving fluidly as though swimming through an ocean of darkness.

Stanford turned.

He looked just as he did in life, before sustaining the horrific injuries caused by his niece. He wore the clothes he had on before death, pristine and without a single drop of blood sullying them. He had his gray hair with a silver streak, deep creases in his forehead and beneath his eyes, and a resting scowl that budged slightly in surprise at the sight of Will.

Will, not wearing his eyepatch and showing off the swirling galaxy of his eye, reached out and placed a gentle hand on Stanford’s. His slender, golden fingers locked into Stanford’s calloused hand, embracing his six fingers. He stared down.

_What are you doing, Will? You’ve gone mad._

Stanford glanced to their hands, then looked back up at Will, studying the demon’s expression, looking between his blue eye and galaxy eye curiously. Then, he chuckled. The sound drifted into purgatory, fading as it left their vicinity. “I thought I was alone here.”

“You’re supposed to be alone.” Will squeezed his hand, staring right back. “This is your sentence for your sins.”

“My sins…” Stanford laughed again. “And what might those be?”

“The overseers of the universe expect you to figure that out for yourself, as you drift here alone… in silence… in darkness…” Will murmured. He blinked slowly, his lashes falling over his misty blue eye. “I’m not here to tell you your sins.”

“You’re not here to punish me?” Stanford arched one eyebrow curiously. “Or take revenge?”

Will shook his head, focusing on their hands. “I thought I wanted revenge. But I couldn’t. I saw you, and I thought of the wonderful times we had together. Cooking dinner together. Stargazing. Gazing into each other’s eyes and dreaming of your future.” He moved his hands over Stanford’s callouses. These were the hands that loved him and broke him. “I couldn’t.”

Stanford looked around slowly. Indeed, this was a lonely place. “Then tell me, Will Cipher. Why am I not alone? Why exactly are you here with me?”

The corner of Will’s lip was teased with a smile. He released Stanford’s hand, cupped his cheeks, and channeled his demonic energy. Within a few moments, Stanford looked young again – thirty years old. Smooth skin. Brown hair. Stanford blinked, immediately sensing the difference. Will smiled.

He looked like the man Will fell in love with.

“I don’t know.”

Will ran his fingers through Stanford’s hair – gently, as to not disturb its shape – and closed his eyes, repeating, “I don’t know.”

 

 

"But I'll stay with you until your soul expires."


End file.
